Fidus Achates
by Ingenious Insomniac
Summary: Peter Pan is the kind of person to be admired, to be feared. He is the kind of person who is greater than a person, something more. He's my deus ex machina. My coup de grace. He's broken me more often than I can count, but I'll never stop coming back. I'll never stop believing in him. Loving him, as it were. (Panlix)
1. An Old Promise

**Author's Note:** A lengthy story in which I explore the history and implications of Felix and his relationship with Peter Pan.

**This story is also available on A03. **

**Warnings: **Language. Implied non-con. Sex. Masochism. BDSM. Eventual spoilers for season 3 through episode 11.

_**Reader's discretion is advised. **_

* * *

_**Fidus Acha**__**tes**_

_A Panlix story in seven parts _

**Part 1 **

**Chapter 1**

_An Old Promise_

* * *

The first time I went to Neverland, I was about six. I'd gone to bed with a black eye and no supper for fighting another boy in the orphanage. I was hardly upset over it, and when I fell asleep I opened my eyes I was on a beach surrounded by a swath of trees.

The air was heavy in humidity, tepid. I felt like there was something different about this place. Something strange and magical in a way I was unfamiliar with.

There was something dangerous, something wonderful in the air of this place. I knew it in a second.

Something caught my eye in the water, and as I came toward it I noticed a school of reasonably sized fish gerrymandering around, jetstreams following them. I thought for a moment about taking one, and before I knew what was going on, there was a small harpoon in my hands.

With a smile on my face I gleefully stuck one through. I pulled it to the surface, admiring the way the scales glistened and mingled with the water dripping off its body and the blood replacing it.

Immediately I set to work. Using the harpoon as a makeshift knife I began scaling and gutting it, slicing up its stomach and removing its guts.

That's when a voice sounded behind me. "You can't eat those. "

"Wasn't planning on it," I replied, looking up to the voice.

There he was. For the first time ever, I saw Peter Pan. He looked so tall at the time, so old too, eighteen. He had a mischievous gleam in his eye as he stood with his hands knit across his chest. "Have at it then."

He waited while I finished with the fish, until everything was expelled from the little aquatic creature, before smiling charismatically and saying, "Welcome to Neverland."

"Where?"

"Neverland," Peter explained, "A place for lonely children to escape to in their dreams. A place where anything is possible - imagine it and you can have it."

And so the spiel went. Later I'd become very well acquainted with it. For the rest of that day, however, we ran around in the jungle, climbing trees, and harassing animals. We laughed and played, and I felt as though the real world was so far behind me that it almost seemed like the dream, or rather, the nightmare.

Eventually, however, we stopped our games and came to rest at the campfire.

And that's when I asked it. "Peter, can I stay?"

He laughed, a dash of bitterness hidden behind the exterior. "No, no. You'll wake up eventually."

"What if I don't?"

"Then I imagine you'd go someplace a bit different than Neverland, Felix."

I pouted.

"Tell you what," Pan said, "Give it a while, and perhaps we can _extend _your stay a bit. "

"Can you really do that?" I asked incredulously.

"Of course," He said with a raise of his brow. "Peter Pan never fails."

Ever since then, I returned to Neverland almost every night. I remember all the times we ran and climbed around in the trees. We threw apples into the air and shot at them with poison arrows. He'd remind me that target practice was target practice, even in my dreams, and I could always use my skills in reality if I wanted to.

When I grew older, we'd go hunting and raise hell as often as we could. It was hard to do much in my eight-hour increments, and I always wished I could've stayed longer. Pan had an air of purpose, of intention; it seemed as though he was plotting something. I wanted to know what it was, more than anything. I wanted him to trust me.

I think one of the reasons I was so taken with him was that I was used to people having two opinions of me. They were either utterly terrified or they seemed to hate me for simply existing.

Typically I didn't care either way. People aren't exactly something I'm comfortable with, so it was nice that others allowed me a wide berth.

As for the other half, well it was an excuse to get bloody.

I can't really explain what it is about fighting that attracts me so much. Something about dominating another boy, the risk of being dominated yourself. The bruises you walk away with. The cuts, the scars.

Whenever presented with the opportunity, I'd gladly put my fist in somebody's face. Not because I particularly cared about what they said or thought, but because I wanted the adrenaline, the testosterone, the masochism.

Of course, sometimes the other boys at the orphanage crossed lines.

And when they did, I'd stick my fists out and we'd tumble. The result of which was always blood, concussions, and a look of disappointment from our caretaker.

We were all in the charge of a rotund old woman we all called the Missus. She was a painfully optimistic woman who tried to reach out to each and every one of us "help."

With over twenty boys and girls in her charge, you can imagine how many of us she actually helped. (If you guessed none, you are correct.) I don't care that she "tried her best," she should have just left well enough alone.

She didn't need to offer us schooling, with etiquette books and outdated perceptions on the uses fairy dust. She pressed education on us - education we would never use. I had no interest in social climbing, and everybody else was too dim to even attempt it.

She didn't need to do any of it. All she needed to do was give us a place to eat and sleep.

And she sure as all hell didn't need to pull the Family card.

She always said, "For right now, we're a family. And you're all my children. So let's try to act like the big, happy family we are."

I think that's the part I hated the most.

I didn't need her help. I didn't want her help. More specifically; I didn't need her maternity.

I can still remember one specific time, I can still hear her tutting at me and the other boy - oh what was his name? I guess it doesn't matter - after she pulled us apart. Shame too. I was about to win.

She wanted to know why we were fighting, and there wasn't a satisfactory reason. The other boy pointed his stubby little finger at me, and I had nothing to defend. So, of course, she excused him from the room and sat across from me at the mahogany table and sighed.

"Felix," She said, her voice quivering from nothing more than age. "That's the fourth time this week."

I considered the statement. It appeared as though I was falling behind that week.

The Missus continued to tut. "I was speaking with a doctor in the village recently about all the fighting that goes on, and he told me that there's a tendency for boys - especially orphan boys- who are prone to night-terrors - "

"I'm not prone to night-terrors."

"They tend not to know the difference between dream and reality, so they don't know when to lash out and defend themselves," She ignored me, "So, what I want you to do Felix, is next time you get the urge to hit or make a fuss, look at the back of your hand. If it has too many fingers, is translucent, or otherwise looks or feels strange, you know you're in a dream. If it looks normal, you should abstain and be the bigger person. Can you do that for me, Felix dear?"

I shrugged. "Maybe I just like fighting."

"_No,_" She said adamantly. "You just need a better outlet."

I didn't respond. There wasn't much I needed to let out in the first place. I didn't _care _that my birth-mother and birth-father didn't want me. I didn't have to compensate for feeling unloved - I just liked the feeling of smashing another guy's face in. I was perfectly fine with my current "outlet," thank you very much.

"How about literature?"

I stared at her.

"We could find you a few books, rehearse you in how to act properly, and just put all this behind us." She clapped her hands as though I had agreed. "Let's start soon. You can join us in our etiquette lessons. And soon you'll be a functioning member of society."

Mere words could not express my antipathy for functioning in Society.

Although I hoped she was bluffing, from that moment on the Missus used to stuff me and a few others into the den. She tried to tutor us and teach us how to be civilized. We learned all sorts of pointless words in flowery languages, to the point where if I really wanted to I could describe anything I wanted to with rolling letters and sounds foreign to me.

The thing was, I never really wanted to. And even if I had, I was never good enough for her anyway.

"Felix," She said one day when I was about fourteen. "I do think you need to talk more, enhance your _amour-propre_."

I'd pretend I didn't know what she said. Of course I knew - she drilled it into my head on a daily basis. But what she never understood was I had plenty of self-respect. It was to everyone around me that I couldn't extend the same feelings.

Actually giving a damn about yourself doesn't mean you'll talk about it all the time.

The old wench was persistent though. "I'm serious, Felix! You're getting older, and if you don't start to speak up or start to act like a gentlemen girls will start to think you're boring. Or…" She paused, fumbling over words, "Even _dangerous._"

_Good_, I thought. _More incentive. _

I never did have the nerve to tell her the extent to which girls disinterested me.

If I had, the other boys probably would have beaten me for admitting it anyway.

Not that they _needed _a reason. They already assumed that my quietness indicated any assortment of unsavory possibilities.

And they wondered why I spent so much time alone. Why my feet dragged in the dirt on my way back home. Why I never thought I owed them an ounce of loyalty - I wasn't in their family, never was and never would be.

I lived like that for nineteen years, drilled in boxing, bullying, and foreign words that meant nothing and would continue to mean nothing for the rest of my life

I didn't smile much. I didn't laugh much. I'd just fight. All the things that matter to me now were hardly even options in that life.

I lived in resentment of them. They acted like I owed them something. I was never able to tell what.

To make it brief, by the time I stopped growing I was more than tired of it; I was driven mad by it.

It was my nineteenth birthday, I remember. A day like any other at first. I sat in my lessons, learning which fork to use and when, trying to ignore it. It was a foggy, cold morning and I watched the clouds shiver on the ground, moving to and fro completely aimlessly. Kind of like myself, I thought bitterly.

I had lunch on my own, as was usual. The Missus offered to give me money to go to the tavern for a special meal, but I'd declined.

After everything, I stalked up and down the halls, wondering how long it would be until I could go back to sleep. I'd feigned narcolepsy so often that the Missus forced me to take a stimulant with breakfast every day to "cure" me. It didn't help much, as I spent my waking hours trying to get tired again.

Once the halls became passe, I decided to return to my own room and look out the window until I was tired.

When I returned to the dormitory, a bleak brown room with rows upon rows of four-poster beds, I was loathe to discover that I wasn't alone.

A small gang of boys, a few years younger than me, sat on a set of four beds laughing and downing bottles of whiskey. I rolled my eyes and made for the window.

These boys were usually the kind who ignored me. Not when they were drunk, apparently. A fat boy with a sweaty upper lip stood from his place on the mattress and called to me, "You talk in your sleep you know."

I ignored him.

He grew cocky then, with the rest of his friends following suit. He put on a fake high-pitched moan. "_Peter," _He laughed horridly. "Peter your boyfriend then, Felix?"

The others laughed as though it was the funniest thing ever.

"What's the matter Felix? Got nothing to say you little fa-"

"You have two seconds to take that back," I said slowly enough so it could get through their skulls.

"Take it back? Why? You might as well know. A year from today the Missus'll kick you out - you'll be on your own. Somebody'll kill you in an alleyway for it. Nobody wants people like you. Unnatural freaks of nature."

I lurched for him, ready to rip out his throat. Unfortunately, there was still a bed between us, and I tripped on a quilt that had been half on the floor.

They continued their drunken laughing. The fat boy mocked me again. "What's the matter, nancy boy? Overcompensating?"

That was the last straw, I jumped up over the bed and pinned the fleshy cretin to the wall. Grabbing a knife from my pocket I pressed it slightly over his throat.

"You know what?" I growled. "Maybe I am. I don't really know. But if you think it makes me weak - or that I won't fucking slit your throat you're mistaken."

I honestly wanted to kill him then, but back then I lacked the gumption to aid my natural tendencies. And so I stomped away, vowing that if they ever said anything again, I wouldn't be so gracious.

Thankfully, the mocking of stupid boys was never a deterrent to me, and as such I went to Neverland that night.

As usual I arrived on the beach. I was used to Neverland enough that I knew exactly where to head in the jungle. I think Pan knew when people arrived on the island, but I'd been seeking him out for a few years by that point, and old habits were hard to break.

I wandered through the jungle, skirting by the Dreamshade to make sure I didn't accidentally puncture myself with it. The humidity and green leaves were welcome to me. I let the insults from earlier fade slightly, because as far as I was concerned, I was home. Nothing that happened there - in the orphanage - really mattered.

Everyone was an idiot. I didn't need their opinions.

Pan lived in a treehouse, Hangman's Tree he called it. He typically didn't keep a ladder there, but I knew how to get in from a hole in the protruding roots.

I climbed up, smelling the same things I have for years - sweat, leather, various spices from around the island, and a telltale hint of blood.

My eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness and as I reached out for the door, I caught a glimpse of my hand. Eight fingers. I sighed. Neverland felt more real than the orphanage, sometimes I wished I could forget it was only a dream.

I came through the door, and found Peter sitting in the center of the treehouse, scooping coconut oil into a jar. Even though his back was to me, he straightened and I could tell he was smiling.

"You're back," He said, turning around to face me. "It's been a few days."

"Sorry about that," I said, although I knew I had a harder time of it than he did. "Couldn't get here yesterday for some reason."

Pan stood silently for a moment. After a beat, he cocked his brow. "How old are you now?"

"Nineteen," I said. "Why does it matter?"

Pan frowned. By this point he was almost a head shorter than me, so as he looked down, I wasn't able to quite make out his expression. "But you're still coming."

"Of course I am. Where else could I-"

"No, you don't get it. Neverland is only for children. And you," He paused, looking me up and down. "Aren't."

I felt my heart almost stop. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it might not be long before you can't come here anymore."

"What? No. _No_. No!"

He was quiet.

I was panicking. How could I stay in _that world_? How could I live in the orphanage for another year without a respite? How could I brave the life assigned to me there? How could I brave a life without Peter Pan?

He sighed, turning back around to finishing bottling the coconut oil.

I don't like to admit it, but at the time I foolishly felt betrayed. I know Pan can do no wrong, but at the time I couldn't believe it. I was going to be alone. It felt as though somebody was squeezing my heart apart. And I dared to think, "_How could he do this to me?" _

Of course, all those feelings were ill-conceived and wrong.

I didn't know it at the time, but he was about to cash in on an old promise.


	2. Good Bye and Good Riddance

**Part 1**

**Chapter 2**

_Good Bye and Good Riddance _**  
**

* * *

I jolted awake that morning on the same hay filled mattress in the orphanage I was accustomed to. If I told you I woke up _upset _that morning, it would be an understatement.

After all, my visit in Neverland the night before was anything but satisfactory. After Pan finished bottling the coconut oil, he went off on his own to get something. Leaving me to sit in Hangman's Tree, alone.

He had a good reason, I knew even back then, but it was still low blow. Reduced to simmer with such bad news on one's own.

I spent the rest of the dream wandering around his treehouse. We rarely spent any sort of substantial time there, so a lot of it was new to me. He had shelves of spices and dried plants hung from the ceiling. He had a splintery trunk I imagine held clothes or blankets. No shortage of weapons hung on the wall, clubs, swords, bows and arrows, spears, just about anything one could imagine.

The floor had animal skins on it compensating for carpet and rugs, sometimes I wondered how he acquired it. I'd never seen wild animals in Neverland before.

Then, something occurred to me and I decided to attempt something completely out of character, that is, I tried to think optimistically.

Even though I was alone, I was still in Neverland. And that meant the world to me. I paced back and forth, peeking around the room, but at the same time I did my best to absorb my surroundings.

If Pan was right, and I might not be able to return, I thought, I might as well memorize as much of this place as I can.

So I memorized how the air felt on my face.

I memorized the perimeter of the treehouse and the view from the window.

The way the trees coiled around their own trunks and the waxy leaves, the bird calls, everything.

I remembered Pan's voice, wondering how I'd imagined it in the first place, and all the adventures.

I just wanted to keep as many memories as possible. In case Pan _forgot_ his promise.

It was sacrilegious of me. Horrible. I can't believe that I - for even a moment - doubted him. People have gone to hell for less than that, I'm sure.

To this day I'm ashamed of my blasphemy. Four hundred years can't repair my indiscretion.

How could I forget that Pan never fails?

But there I was, my chest felt empty, and I was worrying. Selfishly, I have no illusions about my thinking, particularly at that time.

After all, wrong as I was, it was the first time he managed to break me.

And after pacing in the treehouse for a few hours, I woke up.

It was hardly fair.

I didn't know exactly how to feel.

I'd shut down all hope that Neverland was a real place. It was too perfect there. So I stupidly talked myself out of it. One wises up substantially in four hundred years. In the dream it made sense for me to be so upset, and I suppose in reality it did too, as leaving for the dreamland was my only comfort.

There was a lying part of me that kept on insisting it was a dream, of course I could continue to dream about it – it was my head and I could do whatever I wanted, I reasoned. Another part of me, the honest part, wasn't so sure.

I fought with my own mind for hours. Telling myself I could get back - that it was all in my imagination.

But a little part of me shut all my reasoning down. It piped up over and over again with the same sentence. _No, it's all real. _

I spent the morning weaving in and out of the hallways, watching the others dart in and out of my way, an extra glimmer of fear in their eyes. It hardly occurred to me that they very likely heard about my conversation with the fat boy the day before.

And, if I'll be blunt, it didn't matter to me at all.

Walking in circles for hours, I finally stopped when the Missus rang the bell for lunch. I walked into the dining room, and as I did, the entire room fell silent, staring at me.

For the first time that day, I smirked slightly. The fear in their eyes was nothing new, but it was a nice comfort in consideration of my bad mood.

Before I could sit down and actually eat anything, the Missus burst through the door. "Felix! There you are! Step into the den for a minute, please."

I rolled my eyes, able to infer what she was calling me out for.

Following her into the den, she crossed her arms. "I've been hearing some nasty rumors. I want to know both sides of the story. So be honest with me."

"Can't be honest if I don't know what you're talking about," I rolled my eyes, leaning on the wall.

She sighed, knowing that I knew exactly what she was talking about. "Did you, or did you not, threaten to assault Reed?"

I chortled. "Not exactly. I threatened to kill him."

The Missus turned ghastly white. "Felix! Why-"

"His intention was to make me less of a man. I refused to buy into it."

To make it clear, my preferences never bothered me personally. I knew for a long time that I cared nothing for girls. They were all fleshy, overly emotional people - I never understood how they could possibly inspire anybody's erection, or even their sympathies.

No, that never bothered me. It was when people found out, and then thought it automatically made me effeminate. When they threatened me. When they assumed I was lesser because of it - or that they were better than me simply because I prefer men, that's what bothered me.

The Missus was still sputtering. "Surely you understand that I can't condone that sort of behavior. And if you actually hurt him after this...I'll have to call the police."

I shrugged. "Fine by me."

"I tried so hard with you. Why can't you see your potential?"

I shrugged, turning to leave. "Potential is just another way to tell a person they aren't worth shit yet."

"Oh Felix," She sighed, rubbing her withered temples. "I worry about you."

"I don't think that's necessary Missus," I mumbled over my shoulder.

She hobbled towards me and, taking my arm, turned me around. "All I ever wanted for you - for all of my children - is to grow up and have a good life - make good decisions. To not regret where you wind up. I'm afraid you might."

"Already do."

"Felix - let us help you. Listen to us, we're all family-"

"Shut up." I shot from her weak grasp. "I don't need your family."

With that, I headed out the door for the last time. Through with it all, and what did any of it matter?

Frankly, prison didn't seem that bad of an option. If I was condemned to spend the rest of my life in this world, what did incarceration mean?

Nothing.

I headed into the village. There was nothing much to do, and absolutely nothing at the orphanage.

Somehow I wound up in a pub, and later witnessing a dogfight, followed by just sitting next to a fence, watching people and their lives go by.

It was all so...so pointless. They had nothing to stand for. No cause, no conviction. And none of them knew it. I alone understood he kind of frivolous lives they were living.

I had wandered around town all day, flies gathered around me to taste my sweat and blood. The buzzing was annoying but it was the nicest thing I heard all day. It was such a far cry from everything else I'd heard recently that I have to say it was welcome white noise.

Once the sun had fallen behind the trees and the flies mixed and mingled with fireflies, bullfrogs croaked irritatingly, and the air became cold and heartless. I wandered a few hours until I came to the public square, completely void of all life.

I stopped, sitting on a doorstep, beginning to get lost in thought. Just as I was beginning to, I was able to make out a kind of slow, mournful music. Almost romantic - but I'm getting ahead of myself.

I followed the music in some kind of half enchantment that lead me to an alleyway. The building parted, seeming to make way for a large bonfire set in the middle of the square that was nearly deserted. It blocked out the details of its only occupant, a cloaked figure, a black ink splotch over orange light.

I didn't know what to do. I felt my stupidity as it burnt my cheeks. Of course somebody'd be playing the music. For some reason it hadn't occurred to me before.

The black ink spoke after a beat. "Took you a while."

I stopped. His voice. It couldn't be. Not _there_, in that world.

The splotch continued. "Why don't you come closer?"

I accepted the invitation, coming forward tentatively, warning myself not to take too much of his voice in. Not too much of that eerily familiar, soothingly rapacious, utterly enchanting voice.

He stood and removed his cloak. As he did, my stomach dropped.

"I'm dreaming."

His eyebrow cocked and he chortled. "You would think that, wouldn't you?"

"You're...you're really here?"

"Indeed," He smiled. "'S a bit different since I was here last."

I couldn't believe it. Peter Pan, in front of me, in my village. In real time.

Not trusting my own eyes, I glanced to my hand in that moment and was astonished; before my eyes I saw the same old five fingers, completely opaque.

"Shit."

Peter Pan laughed. "It seems impossible, doesn't it?"

All I could do was nod dumbly.

"I knew you'd hear it." He looked at me fondly. An annoying drumming came to my ribcage. "You were always my favorite."

"Your favorite?" I echoed a small grin betraying me.

"Why yes." Peter began to wander around the fire. "Of the children who visit in their dreams. But of course you never stay."

"I wish I had." I muttered, remembering how we'd had this conversation before.

Peter's eyes flashed to my affirmation. "Felix, I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that."

I couldn't help but smile.

His eyes glistened. "As it happens, I'm here to keep my promise from your first visit. How would you like to stay in Neverland? For good."

What else could I do but nod to the affirmative? Exchanging a life in hell for an eternity with somebody so impossible was such a blatant win-lose situation, how could I choose anything but to win?

However, curiosity did tug at me, and so I asked, "What changed?"

Pan sighed. "It gets lonely in Neverland, Felix. And I've grown rather fond of you - your loyalty, your consistency. I'd hate the thought of you not coming to visit me anymore."

Excitement broiled in my stomach. "And I can just stay?"

He nodded. "You're a bit old for Neverland, but I can't imagine it would cause a problem. So, what do you say?"

I didn't say anything. But - for the first time in my life - silence worked. And so we began the first real experience of us.

Of course that implies that I own something Peter doesn't, when nothing could really be farther from the truth.

As I accepted his invitation to join him in Neverland, we didn't speak. The silence filled my ears and lifted a veil from my eyes. It seemed normal, it suited us. The implications buzzed into my mind.

Pan was comfortable with silence, something everyone else couldn't wrap their heads around. I didn't need them, I knew. Not anymore. Suddenly I understood why you'd want to stay with someone, why the Missus wanted us to be a family. Pan was the only family I needed, the only family I wanted.

Just as we were about to make for Neverland, Pan turned to look at me. "You're distracted. What happened?"

"The orphanage."

"What about it?"

"I can't believe I'm leaving it for good." I mused. "Too bad I never gave them their comeuppance."

Pan took a stick and put it into the fire, handing it back to me. With a smirk on his face, he challenged me. "Why don't you?"

We ran through the street, with makeshift torches lighting our way. The cold air rushed in my lungs, making me light. I looked over to Pan, his ears and nose were tinted red from the temperature, but he looked confident and comfortable, as usual.

We laughed and ran all the way to the orphanage.

It was so bleak. Red bricked and lonely, there were a few lights on in the windows. Very likely the Missus was still awake singing corny lullabies to the babies. Some of the boys would be boasting their rewards from pick-pocketing earlier in the day. Some would already be sleeping. Some would have been writing letters or rehearsing what they'd say when somebody wanted to adopt them.

Disgusting.

"Ready to say good-bye and good riddance?" Pan asked me.

I nodded, throwing rock, the glass shattered, and that was the only warning.

Someone screamed from inside, and on the count of three we both flung our torches through the window.

Pan opened his hand, and before I knew what happened, the whole building burst into flames.

We killed people that day. It's odd to focus in on that - considering the headcount has more than quadrupled over the centuries - but it's worth mentioning.

With Peter by my side, I found my gumption. I was able to do what I otherwise could not make myself accomplish: to act on impulse and not give a damn.

Satisfaction filled my stomach. No more of the stupid boys who tried to act better than me. No more old crone trying to act like she cared. No more mere surviving until I could sleep.

That was that.

And at that moment, through the screams and chaos inside the orphanage, I knew it was just Peter Pan, Neverland, and me.


	3. Neverland

**Pa****rt 1**

**Chapter 3**

_Neverland_

* * *

Neverland was different the second I had both feet on the ground. Darker, and not for the fact it was night when we arrived. That might've just been me seeing through different colored glasses.

My dreams must have muted my senses because everything was more vivid. I smelled the decaying plants all around us, the rain that threatened to pelt us if we didn't find refuge eventually. The ground was muddy and gave way under my feet.

Insects buzzed and snakes hissed underneath logs. Something big moved in the underbrush, growling.

Everything was breathing, the air, the trees, the ground we walked on. The entire jungle pulsed as one big entity.

"It's different," I commented.

Pan shrugged. "Well, you aren't filtering it through your head anymore. Perception is never entirely accurate."

I thought about what he said, and ultimately decided he must be right. I had the evidence in front of me, and nineteen years of experience that seemed to prove it further.

Neverland felt so enormous, as though I were merely an ant in the grand scheme of it all. Despite being covered by trees and plant life every place I looked, I felt the sky staring down at us, as though they could see and pass judgement.

But that was the great thing about Neverland; any sort of judgement the stars may have didn't matter.

It was the ultimate place where all lines blurred, where it didn't matter that I thrived on blood, because the boy beside me did too. Where consequences didn't matter, where violent tendencies weren't a cause for worry.

Where magic flowed through the air and infected the oxygen.

Where good became bad and bad became good.

Who needed a conscience when the land was built for people who didn't want one?

Pan's Neverland was far more conductive to those who abandoned theirs whenever convenient anyway. If you managed to avoid us the island would eventually kill you for your humanity, your weakness, your soft spots.

Fuck everything the Missus ever taught me about society and civilization. Fuck self-control and anger management devices. Fuck the world I once knew.

What did any of that matter?

Pan proved to me you could have a life built on savagery, violence, and the immense drive to get what you want. As long as it was conductive to what he wanted. But, how could it not be?

We started walking through the jungle, the tropical air seemed to go back on itself and there was a chill that seemed to be a bit of an oxymoron. Internally griping over it, I shivered.

"Why don't you get yourself a cloak?" Pan suggested.

"How?"

"Just believe you have one."

Confused by the suggestion, I thought about having a cloak. A big brown one of heavy qiviut wool. One that would almost cover my face when I wore the hood up. Simple, dark, without embellishment.

I thought about having it in my hands, the weight it'd put on my shoulders. The level of invisibility it would give me, allowing me to assimilate into the island to the best of my ability.

Then, trying to obey Pan, I told myself I already had it.

Nothing happened.

Pan blinked. He paused, thinking apparent on his face. After a beat, he said, "I have one for you."

"Where?" I looked for a pocket in one of the squares on his own patchwork cloak or some purse.

"Don't you_ believe_ I've got it?" He asked, blinking looking confused but with an aura of baiting about him.

"If you say you have it, why wouldn't I?" I asked, and just as the words left my mind, before they escaped my lips, he had the brown quivet cloak from my mind in his grasp.

He exhaled excitedly, wheels and cogs visibly turning in his head. "Interesting."

Without another word, he handed the cloak to me and turned around, heading further into the underbrush, bidding I follow him.

I did so without hesitation, fastening the fabric under my chin and pulling the hood up so it obstructed my peripheral so all I could see was the back of Pan's head.

"Where are we going?" I asked after an hour of walking, not recognizing the terrain.

"Oh, come now," Pan said looking behind himself distractedly. "That'd ruin the surprise."

The night grew on, and I followed him still. He led me to a high precipice and had me look over it. The sea was black and inky with the moonlight highlighting the ripples and caps of the waves as they crashed on the rocks directly below us. There were a few islands over the water, one was large and shaped like a skull. One had a smoking volcano. One had the silhouettes of mermaids sitting on the rocks and calling to each other.

After I had a moment to take it all in, Peter spoke. "Neverland's bigger than you imagined, Felix. In your dreams, in the last thirteen years, you've barely even scratched the surface."

"And you know all of it?" I asked, turning to him.

The moonlight made his features milky white. He smiled, shadows casting over his face as he did so. "I do. And you will too."

I looked over the vast horizon, seeing the water and sensing the immensity of the jungle behind my back. It seemed as though a whole world was opened up, a whole planet. How could someone was normal as I know it all? But, Pan said I would, and I trusted him. "How long will that take?"

"What does that matter?" He shrugged. "We've got forever."

Forever. The word hung in the air. It was such a long time, after all. Excitement built up from head to toe, I caught myself sporting the biggest, most honest grin I had in years.

We, literally, had all the time in the world. And I hardly knew what to ask, what to do. But that didn't matter. What we didn't do that day could be accomplished the next day, and the next day, and the next.

The literature the Missus used to shove at me always had negative connotations towards immortality. Claimed you'd lose those you love. I knew it was wrong, and that I didn't care, because there was no one I loved. And I'd never be alone. After all, I was with Peter Pan.

I'd never be left to wander hallways alone, as people ran away and whispered insults in their fear. I'd be with someone - and not just anyone - I'd be with Peter Pan.

He led me back to Hangman's Tree, through the same doorway under the roots. The treehouse looked the same, but felt more concrete. I never noticed but before that moment my footfalls in the treehouse were so much lighter comparatively.

I guess that's what happens when dreams become reality.

Pan opened the trunk on the end of the bed and pulled out a long, coarse blanket with small brown ropes on either end. Throwing it to me, he explained that I was to set up a hammock in the window for the time being.

I set to work, noting hooks in the wall and tied the ropes to it as securely as I could. The ropes were so frayed I wound up with splinters in my palms. But momentarily it was secure. I positioned myself in the center of the hammock and lowered the hood of my cloak.

And it's safe to say I almost fell out of the hammock.

His back was turned to me as his shirt came off. His shoulders were toned despite his otherwise slim appearance. My eyes slid down the obvious dip of his spine and back up again.

He turned to face me. His stomach was sectioned off, but not overly so, definitely fit. If I looked hard enough, I could make out a slight grooves where his ribs were.

I may or may not have wanted to run my hands over all of them.

"All right then, Felix?" He asked me, looking confused.

"Yeah." I coughed, finding my eyes slipping over him again, adding shortly, "Never better."

He sniggered with a small twitch to his brow. "Well get some sleep. Tomorrow I've got more to show you."

I nodded and laid my head down on the hammock, though I didn't get much sleep. I couldn't stop thinking.

I'd never really considered what he looked like without clothes before that point.

The fact that Peter Pan was real and not merely a boy out of a dream introduced a new dynamic. Within the constraints of a dream, it made sense that Peter would be, for lack of a better word, perfect. People dream about ideal mates all the time.

If he were just a figment of my imagination, it made sense that he would be charismatic, enchanting, ruthless, handsome. A deity among boys.

But he did exist. And he still does.

Peter Pan is the kind of person to be admired, to be feared. He is the kind of person who is greater than a person, something more.

He's my deus ex machina.

My coup de grâce

And I'm his aide-de-camp.

His fidus achates.

In the centuries that would come, he's broken me more times than I can count. But that was never a deterrent. I'll never stop coming back to him. I'll never stop believing in him.

When I thought he was a figment of my imagination, it never really occurred to me to have any feelings stronger than what I'd have for any other ersatz god.

But moving to Neverland for good, having the reality of the situation to count on, caused new options to arise.

I finally had a friend. Someone who, after thirteen years of being the only person who cared about me, deserved my loyalty. Someone who seeked me out and managed to tell me that I mattered without actually saying it.

At that point, right after my arrival in Neverland, I didn't question it. It was a new situation, I had other things to focus on. I had to learn new things, and I was just happy I had somebody.

That being said, it didn't take me long to notice his build, his sadism, the look in his eye when he knew he was going to get his way.

I wasn't able to identify what it was at first. Lust was certainly applicable, though at the time I wouldn't have dreamt of actually doing anything about it. I had a feeling that it would become clearer in the future - and I was right.

_Love_ is a strange term; I'm not sure I'm comfortable with it. But if it didn't apply back then, it certainly does now.

Again, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I woke up the next morning to sunlight falling directly on my face, flooding over my eyelids and surrounding me in a world of red. For a moment, I thought I'd fallen asleep in the window seat I often sat in in the orphanage.

Then I opened my eyes. I was still in Pan's treehouse, spices and animal fur smelled warm with sunlight, the weapons on the adjacent wall glistened in the light.

I sat up and the hammock dipped slightly with my movement. I'd never seen the treehouse in the morning light before; it was golden, happier than it was at night.

It took me a moment of looking around before I noticed the bed on the opposite side of the room lacked an occupant, the sheets ripped off at the bottom of the mattress.

"Pan?" I called out. No answer.

I figured he must have been out doing whatever it is one did in Neverland when one lived there.

With nothing else to do, I sat up and stretched. Sleeping in a hammock when unused to it is not unlike sleeping on a sofa; it calls for cramps. I rotated my shoulder impatiently until it slid back into place.

Once I stood, I found myself standing on a small pile of clothes that were a little more conductive to the terrain. Stripping out of my leggings and tunic from the orphanage I changed into the tough, crackly clothes that smelled like everything else in the vicinity: fur, spice, blood.

By the time I tied the scarf around my neck and put my cloak back on, Pan had returned.

"Thought those would be about your size," He mused, throwing a bit of dried meat at me. "Hurry up though. I know you just got here, but I figure it's never too early for a little physical excursion."

I paused. Something caught in my throat. "What…what did you have in mind?"

"We're taking the perimeter of the island. I've got to give you a crash course before the others come."

"Others?"

"I've got plans, Felix. For the future. For Neverland. For us. But it requires a sort of," He paused and added with his typical dramatic flair, "_Pack mentality." _

"Okay." I said, not quite understanding. "What does this have to do with me?"

"I need a dogcatcher." He started to walk towards me. "More specifically, I need someone who will help me, no matter what. Trust. Loyalty. What you've proved to have."

"How did I manage that?" I asked, tearing at a hunk of the meat with my teeth.

"You kept coming back to Neverland," Pan said, picking a knife off the wall. "To me."

Feeling my neck grow hot, I looked away, hiding my face in my hood.

He handed me the knife then and turned around. "Come on."

And we were out the door.

Pan gave me something in my first full day in Neverland. Something that I'd never had before: a sense of purpose without any strings attached. He built up his impending plans with grandeur and eloquence (at the time he still hadn't told me any specifics), using his hands to further animate his words.

There was a simple beauty to that day. The sun was bright and hot. Mirages flickered in and out of my sight, creating watery ripples in the scenery as we trudged on.

While we walked, Pan essentially gave me a tour. If we turned right at this tree we'd enter a part of the jungle that would get one hopelessly lost without Pan as a guide. If we turned left at that rock and kept going we'd be at the lagoon the mermaids liked to drown people in. Go straight at the fallen log and we'd be at the Echo Cave. And so on and so forth. I, of course, took everything to heart and memorized it as quickly as I could.

It wasn't long before Pan straightened abruptly. "Well shit," He muttered.

"What is it?"

"A dreamer." He shook his head. "I've got to go and see him, it's important. Just keep going straight and turn left at the tree with the orange flowers. Keep going until you get to the little pool with a waterfall. I'll be with you in a bit."

With that he disappeared.

I continued on as he said, seeing little purple tiger-like creatures in the underbrush and birds fly out abruptly from their perches in the canopies. It seemed as though, without Pan, the island was preened to misbehave, and it seemed more dangerous without him.

It took about an hour to get to the pool, and when I arrived I was hot, tired, and sufficiently dehydrated. I approached the pool and was happy to discover it was fresh water. After taking a large drink from the pool, I stripped off the majority of my clothes and dove in.

Fish scattered around under me as I treaded the water. I was slightly wary about mermaids or squids dragging me down, but to my knowledge they were salt-water creatures, so I figured I was safe.

I swam around in circles for a good long while. It was cold and cleaned off the sweat at a remarkable pace. I was soon shivering.

While I swam and my teeth chattered, I repeated the tour Pan gave me earlier in my head. Trying to remember every detail.

It took me a while, but I thought I remembered the bulk of it. If only I could remember which direction to turn at the quicksand that would lead to the man-eating bird colony. I sighed, perhaps Pan could repeat some of it.

When I was cooled down enough, I headed back to shore and pulled my clothes back on. Then I waited. And while I waited, my thoughts drifted back to Pan.

I hoped that he'd eventually tell me the specifics of this plan he'd darted around earlier. But then I figured I'd best not be greedy about it. After all, Pan picked me and took me to Neverland for good. He delivered me from hell and let me stay with him. I told myself it didn't matter how much he trusted me, because he had given me the biggest grace I could ever ask for.

I told myself, but I _am _a greedy bastard.

I still wanted him to trust me, to tell me everything he had planned. I wanted him to sit next to me and let me in. He knew me, I wanted to know him.

In every sense of the word.

But, I figured, if dogcatcher was all I'd be to him, I'd be the best goddamn dogcatcher he'd ever seen.

I didn't exactly want other people to join us on the island, I wanted more time alone with him. I wanted to be the one who was close to him, I wanted to mean something to him before others could come along and be better than me, and mean more to him than I would. Because he meant everything to me, he always had, and if even a fraction of that could be mutual I could die happy.

I'd signed the Faustian pact without even realizing it, and without his having to ask, but I was already in over my head and as the years would go by, I'd get in even deeper. Not that I'd mind.

I'm aware I'm a bit preoccupied with Pan. I've got a one-track mind, but I'll detour for a while. After all, for the first fifty years before he started to recruit the rest of the Lost Boys, we weren't alone.


	4. Shadowy Dreams

**Part 1**

**Chapter 4**

_Shadowy Dreams_

* * *

The first time I saw Pan's shadow was the first time I saw him take one from someone else.

He'd woken me up early that morning and told me we had a little adventure to go on. I was out of my hammock and in my cloak before the sleepiness even left my eyes.

Pan led me through the jungle, around pathways and landmarks I'd later commit to memory. It was a silent walk, Pan didn't have much to say and I was loathe to start a conversation. But we had a sort of fraternity, a sort of understanding in the silence. It was more comfortable than talking.

He led the way with me following a half-step behind him. The way it should always be.

Soon enough, we found ourselves at the mermaid's lagoon, a large blue pool encircled by treacherous cliffs and waterfalls. I hadn't met the aquatic maidens before, though Pan had told me enough about them to make a sufficient impression.

We cleared the trees, stepping into the light. As we did so, the mermaids caught sight of us and dove into the water, disappearing from sight.

Quite unlike the warriors I thought they were supposed to be. I smirked slightly when I realized it was likely because they were intimidated by Pan. It was a high in and of itself to be the only person close to someone so powerful.

Pan rolled his eyes, lifting his hand and struck his thumb and forefinger together, the snap echoing throughout the island.

A moment later, a single mermaid suspended in air, hovering over to the rocks on which we stood. Her tail was silvery and looked slick, her hair was too thin and her features too delicate. But her amber eyes were alight with hatred, drawing my eyes towards here with surprising magnetisim.

"Sapphire, yes?" Pan asked, stepping forward to speak to the mermaid.

"_Sinnann_," she replied angrily.

Peter cocked a brow. "I think we both know it doesn't really matter."

She glared. It was fairly obvious these two had interacted in the past, but in what context I was unsure.

She looked at me. "Who's this? Peter Pan doesn't have friends. What is he to you?"

"Don't even try it."

"Oh? We know the siren songs," she said daringly, very likely trying to leverage. "So put me down."

"It won't work. Not on him."

He was right. It wouldn't have worked,even if I didn't love him as much as I did, I was too loyal for loyalty's sake.

"How can you be so certain-"

Pan took a dangerous step forward, holding an arm up, causing the mermaid to splutter. "We've gotten off track. Allow me to redirect you."

He ticked his head and the mermaid flew closer to us, the magic brought her upright so she was face-to-face with us. She was tall, nearly my height, but somehow Pan managed to look as though he were towering over her.

"You brought something into Neverland from another realm," Pan spoke matter-of-factly, beginning to circle the fishy creature like a vulture. "What was it?"

"Go to hell," the mermaid snarled to him, narrowing her eyes.

"You should've known not to break the rules." Pan grew grave then, dangerous in a way I'd never seen before; his eyes were void of all soul or joviality I'd seen in him previously. "You know what I do to people who break my rules. So I'll give you one last chance. What did you bring into Neverland?"

The mermaid snarled before finding herself choking once more on her own tongue.

"I allowed you to come and go and you betrayed my trust." Pan said, clicking his tongue, coming up behind the mermaid. "And we can't have that."

He surprised me by adding in a delayed, "Can we, Felix?" And sending his eyes towards me.

Somehow grateful and somehow elated that he'd included me in the coercion, I said evenly, "No, I don't think we can."

Pan smirked. "You heard him."

In that moment, a great mass of blackness flew in from the sky. A bear or some other sort of beast, it came without warning and headed straight for the immobile creature.

The black entity crashed straight through the mermaid like smoke, seeming to grow as he breached through her. She fell in a crumpled heap to the ground.

I involuntarily yelped from the surprise.

Before I fould fully register what was happening, the black mass had both my hands behind my back, and Peter was directly in front of me, holding a blade to my throat.

"Now that I've got your attention, here's the deal," Pan said. "_This _is reality on Neverland. It's a new playing field. I'm in control of everything. And we have to keep it that way."

The sheer proximity sent a shiver up my spine, and the threat that carried in his voice, the danger and unnerving air he had, possessing his whole body made me stiffen and gnaw off a chunk from the inside of my cheek.

"No one lives on Neverland without my permission. So far you've done well. But we've only just begun."

His eyes were alight, full of anger and ultimatum. It was, to put a word to it, titillating.

"So the question is," Pan continued. "Are you ready to play the real games?"

The real question, I thought, was how he'd think that I wasn't. I'd already made up my mind, I'd follow him to hell and back. I owed him that much for my deliverance.

However, I couldn't vocalize something so disgustingly saccharine. Instead, I simply nodded.

Pan withdrew the blade and his shadow disappeared shortly afterwards. "Good," He said. "Now, come on, we've got more to do."

This was the first of many cold-blooded murders I'd witness. And, the only thing striking about the matter was that, after the inital surprise was through, I didn't care. A mermaid was dead, but that didn't matter to me. There were so many more, and they hardly mattered to me, so what was the harm in lowering the population by one? There was none.

I followed him through the woods. He shot down creatures with a crossbow he believed up, and I'd carry them on ropes over my shoulder. I wasn't sure what the intention behind the chores he had me do was, but I knew better than to ask.

However, after a while my curiosity did get the better of me, though not for that reason.

"Peter," I eventually asked him. "What do you think the mermaids brought from the other realm?"

"I don't think, I know exactly what they brought."

I started. "But...then why did you kill her?"

Pan turned to face me with a devilish twist on his face. "Because she broke my rules. And I had to acquaint you with them. Two birds and all that."

I couldn't even challenge the thought in the privacy of my own mind, and as such let it go. Besides, it did help me learn the one rule in Neverland. Pan always gets his way. And it was my job to see that whatever he wanted happened, a job I gladly took.

It was a few months, maybe a year, before our duet turned into a trio. Before god and servant added the messenger. And during that time, I was in some of the most blessed euphoria of my life.

Pan and I would run, and play, and swim, and every day from dawn to dusk was filled with some scheme to fulfill. Sometimes we'd kill a mermaid or a native or an animal. We'd jump off the precipices and into treacherous waters, we'd dance dangerously close to the nightshade, we'd pull our blades against each other for a quick little spar. It wasn't endgame, but it was something; it was routine.

And throughout all of this, Pan grew more appreciative of me. He didn't have a surplus of kind words, exactly, but he'd spare me glances that fleeted slower, he'd put an encouraging hand on my arm, he'd leave me to take care of something that was above my knowledge less often; he'd send me to accomplish small tasks from time to time, trusting me alone on his island.

And throughout all of this, I pretended I wasn't falling in love with him.

I pretended my breath didn't catch when he smiled at me. I pretended my body temperature remained static when he'd sift into bed at night, or that my mood didn't shift instantly to correspond to his.

I tried not to let on that I was becoming increasingly obsessive over him, though come to think of it, that might have been exactly what he wanted.

To use Pan's vernacular, I was playing a game with my mind. Trying to still my physical responses to the simple things he did. Trying to calm everything until I could gauge his thoughts on the matter - figure out if it would be worth it to let him know.

I wasn't sure if he was aware the game I was playing. In retrospect, it seems unholy to insinuate that he wouldn't have noticed on his own, but he never directly told me if he did.

Despite how previous descriptions might have made it seem, in those days our relationship was at its simplest. My feelings aside, it was a Lost Boy's dream. Waking up, going on an adventure with Peter Pan, going to sleep, and starting over again. It was fine, for the time being. Although I knew even then that it was temporary.

The funny thing about temporary moments is that they're all too fleeting. And then when they're gone you don't get them back. A funny concept for someone who's all too willing to accept _forever._

I'd hardly even thought about it much the day Peter changed my life for the second time.

It was midafternoon, hot and humid like any other day. Pan came up beside me and threw a large wooden club my way. With little more than a smirk, he revealed a broadsword in his own hand.

"En garde." He grinned.

He advanced first, I ducked under his arm. Metal hit wood. It's not entirely fair when you think about it, but that's how Peter operates. I didn't complain then, and I won't start now.

I focused in on the glinting piece of metal Pan had at the offensive. He had speed on his side; I had force. (Ironically we would later adopt the same dynamic in different circumstances.)

As he dashed his sword up and down, trying to poke and prod at me. I took a less flowery path, stopping the attacks directly. And so on it went.

He'd attack. I'd parry. I'd attack. He'd parry. Neither one of us actually hit the other, whether or not that was was a case of equal match remains to be seen.

I advanced; he changed his engagement. I noticed he favored theatrical flourishes and directional attacks.

I smiled at the thought. Of course he would. What else would Peter Pan favor? Something simple? Never.

The midmorning sun heated me, sweat began to pool under my cloak. Even Peter was showing signs of overheating, with the slight dampness of sweat, a slight lag to his breath, a flushed countenance.

"You've got the same three moves," Pan observed breathlessly, taking his blade to my club in a circle, trying to throw off the balance. "Careful. Don't want to be boring."

This struck a chord of deja vu in me that I couldn't quite place. All I knew was that it bothered me a lot more than it might have initially.

Utilizing the two things I had against Pan, my height and force, I pressed the club against his sword. His blade wound up lodged in my weapon. I tossed it to the side with dangerous confidence, pressing Pan's shoulders into the trunk of a nearby tree.

He seemed elated, humored.

"Damn, Felix," He said, slightly out of breath. "I think I know how I'll use you."

My guard dropped, stomach following suit. The proximity. The heat. The sound of Pan's breath lagging. It was all a bit much.

"What's that?" I asked coarsely, close enough to notice a pockmark over one of his brows, and somehow finding my eyes straying downward to his teeth.

Seeing that I'd stopped watching myself, Pan jolted his knee upwards, managing to avoid the sensitive parts and nailing my stomach.

With the wind knocked out of me and pain shooting through my abdomen, I curled on the ground. Pan sat on his hands and knees over me, the sunlight creating a halo around his mussed up hair.

"Training of course," He smiled and then disappeared without further explanation.

It was an old habit of his, disappearing without a trace. It was something one just had to come to accept about living on the island. You just had to pray to all the gods that he never decided to appear in front of you mid-fantasy.

Since I'd been in Neverland for about a year, I wasn't phased by his disappearance. If anything I was relieved by it, as I laid on the ground trying to decide if it'd be worth it to Think about it a bit Harder.

The spar had been a bit much for me. The heat of the day accompanying my fighting impulses was a perfect match, and if they were the only two factors it hardly would have mattered.

The issue here, was Pan.

Then again, what wasn't about him?

I only mentioned this particular escapade for what happened afterwards. After all, we sparred all the time, and they usually all followed the same template. But what makes that particular fight stand out in my memory is the dream I'd found myself in after.

It might be surprising that one continues to dream in a dreamland, and even more confusing might be what one might dream_ of _in a dreamland. Particularly a person such as myself who had once devoted all of his previous dreams to coming to Neverland.

Thankfully, I didn't just dream of visiting my home, though I might have been dull enough to.

No. Not in the slightest. My dreams caught up to my age after I was in Neverland and they became erratic. More surreal. Just one event plastered onto the next in a pattern that made no sense. It was quite the divergence form the random adventures with Pan to which I'd grown accustomed.

Of course, the dream I had after that fight was a divergence even from the dreams I had in Neverland.

It was a series of images, of memories.

The first was a memory I didn't particularly care to revisit. It had been sometime when I was maybe sixteen and I met a man who turned out to not really like me.

I got over it quickly, of course. It was just sex, nothing really to get over, but part of me did hate him for leading me on. Part of me hated myself for being stupid enough to fall for it. Part of me wanted to shake his hand for teaching me the art of seduction. Part of me wanted to break his hand simply because that part of me hated him, and always had, even before.

The memory was intense in my dream, and I could still sense it all on my skin. His too delicate lips on mine, stubble scratching my chin, a few fingers inside me, the hot pressure of two cocks jammed together. The friction building, the muffled groans escaping into the kisses as he tilted over me, knocking me onto my back.

The majority of it rang true to the memory, my heart started to catch up to the action going on in my head. Before anything particularly graphic began to happen, the image faded and blend into second vision.

This was a memory I'd nearly forgotten. Poor little Felix, no older than fourteen, completely alone and already feeling too different in more ways than one. I remember I refused to show anything, any fraction of an emotion. I sat stoic, waiting to fall asleep and escape whilst mulling over the steep price of being different.

I couldn't be bothered for decency; I was alone anyhow. And in my confusion, I took matters into my own hands.

And for the first part of the dream, my mind continued to dart between the two scenarios. From the other boy's hand on my crotch to my own, over and over again until the scenes finished playing out, finishing on the same high-pitched note.

It ended on the first scene. Probably because I remembered it better. The damp darkness of the room he'd rented. The fingerprints and scratches that stung in the wintery air. The horrid man's musty breath. Feeling brilliantly sore, I arched, my senses elating and growing more intuitive.

In reality, shortly after that encounter, I received the news that he merely wanted to test how the police in my village patrolled predatory men and would have jumped the first willing participant. To add salt to the wound some of the boys at the orphanage had heard about my experience and tried to adopt a new moniker for me.

Needless to say it was a cruel moniker. One that calls back to kindling. (Be certain that whenever it was used I ensured that blood would flow.)

But that didn't matter, because in the dream the face of the man who actually took me melted away like wax.

With the man's disappearance came a change of scenery. I arrived in the familiar jungle, pressing up against Pan.

Feelings possessed earlier in the dream bubbled up again. The feeling of a hand skimming up my front accompanied Pan's soft purr, "_Damn Felix." _

And that sequence rolled back on itself indefinitely, the feelings of potential, of all that happened in the past, of my hopes for the future all came together.

Occasionally I felt a sharp pain in my chest accompanied by the image of a cocky little brunette I'd never seen before.

I was never able to decode that. Not like dreams can actually be premonitions or anything like that.

In the dream, I turned back to Pan, his exhaust was hot. _"I think I know how I'll use you." _

Without thinking, my eyes shifted towards my hand. Like dust, starting at the tips of my fingers and down to my wrist, it disintegrated and blew away in a breeze I couldn't feel.

"I like you," Pan whispered, drawing my attention away from my warped hand. "So what are you willing to do to convince me you aren't boring?"

I found myself smiling and inching towards him in slow motion, my stomach rising through my throat. My inner demons wanting to know if he tasted like spices or like water or like flesh. If he bit when he kissed.

But then, sense came to me and I fell back. "Are you actually _here_? In my dreams in Neverland?"

"So many questions." He smirked, coming off from the back of the tree slowly. "So few answers."

My eyes grew, I felt my chest constrict. "Just tell me. Please?"

"Ah," He said with an unhealthy amount of cocky parade. "I like it when you beg."

A shiver crawled up my spine, I felt myself move on the ground where I slept. Although I fought to stay unconscious and finish the conversation, I instantly jolted awake.

Pan was standing over me, blocking out the sun so that shadows fell over his face and the halo blinded me.

"Sleeping in the middle of the day?" He scolded with a faux-air of disapproval. "Do you really need to be entertained that much?"

I sat up, trying to remember exactly what had happened. I had no idea if he had been a participant in the dream, if he could get into other people's heads and control their dreams at all or if the dreamers had to come to him. If I had come to him. If he'd given me the set up just to see if, and how, I'd react. Or if he had no idea at all.

He frowned innocently. "You all right?"

I nodded, disappointment surging through me. "Yeah. Just woke up, so..."

Pan, seeing the puzzle pieces click together, motioned for me to stand.

I did so, feeling a bit of a flush in my chest. It wasn't easy to flip between dream and reality, especially when both seemed too real and too perfect to be true.

"Change of plans," Pan said after I'd climbed to my full height, turning around to lead me through the jungle. "We need to make things ready. We're getting a new friend tonight."

I faltered. "So soon?"

"Yes." Pan looked at me as though I had said something strange, implied there was some sort of exclusivity to our relationship that wasn't there.

"All right." I said, feeling my heart beat louder, "What do we need to do?"

"_We_?"

Something felt like it ripped inside my ribs. "Can't I do something?"

"What? Oh. Not that." Pan blinked, sorting his thoughts. "I'll want you to get firewood ready and I'll be getting other provisions."

"Provisions?"

"Another hammock. Food." He said as though it were obvious. Straightening, he sighed, "And while I'm at it I might as well stop by a friend and have a bit of a _chat._"

The look he had turned my stomach into pins and needles. Part of it was frightening - the darkness and directness within his gaze, the threatening bite to his voice - and part of it, laid within his tone, was incredibly suggestive.

I was confused, aroused, and finally able to add the word_ "aphrodisiac" _to my personal vocabulary.

But at the same time I felt myself deflate because whatever he was specifically implying I knew he wasn't planning on doing it with me.


	5. Rufio

**Part 1**

**Chapter 5**

_Rufio_

* * *

Whatever it was Pan was doing, I tried not to think about it. Instead I tried to focus on picking up firewood. It was difficult, due to my distractions, but I managed.

After all, no matter what he was doing, or who he was doing it with, I was going to do what he asked. Not because I feared for my own life or I wanted something in return, but because I wanted him to win, I wanted him to be happy.

And so I gathered firewood all afternoon, creating a roaring bonfire that crackled and sparked into the setting sun.

Once there was enough wood to sufficiently supply us through the night, I sat down on a log and examined the club Pan had given me during our spar.

It was a large and smooth, free of all splintering. Blunt on the handle and rounding out at the end.

I considered the weapon, deciding that I quite liked it. An instrument so forceful and direct complimented me nicely, I thought.

There was nothing intricate or magical about it, nothing quick or fancy. Simply a blunt stick used for knocking things around. In many ways, it was me.

Absently, I tossed it in the air, attempting to catch it. Unfortunately it hit the dirt with a blunt crash.

Frowning, I tried again. No dice.

And so I tried again. And again. And again.

Until I heard a familiar laugh from behind me. I turned around to see Pan standing on the fringe of forest around the clearing with a few dead rabbits on a string over his shoulder.

"Keep trying." He sent me an amused glance, throwing the rabbits down. "Cook those."

I obliged as he sat on a stump, rubbing the back of his neck. I bit back the urge to volunteer to help him with it.

We sat in our usual comfortable silence as I created a rotisserie from branches over the fire. I skewered the rabbits through a spearhead and fashioned them so they'd stay put. Then began the daunting task of turning the meat over the fire to evenly cook it.

It took me a while to notice it, but eventually I realized Pan's eyes were stuck to me.

I caught his glance on accident, my body went numb and I froze.

He didn't drop his eyes even after I made contact. It was intimidating, a power play of his. He was trying to get me to reel, to look away first, to submit.

His eyes were big, nebulous, expressive. Frankly, I didn't want to look away. But it wasn't about what I wanted. It never was.

I retreated my gaze to the fire, turning the rabbits over, watching its blood and juices drip and sizzle into nothing in the flames.

After a moment, I asked, "When are you going to get him?"

Pan looked surprised. "I'm not. I'm doing a little experiment actually: I'm checking to see how easily my shadow can cross realms. It takes a bit of effort when I do it myself, a waste of energy if I'm just going to get one."

I nodded, turning back to the rabbits on the fire, still feeling Pan's eyes on me.

He was an enigma I couldn't grasp. He displayed none of the traits I had learned to watch for in pubs over the years, and yet when he looked at me something spiked in my abdomen. Something I wanted to be reciprocity.

I knew it was all in my head.

No, strike that.

I _know _it _is _all in my head.

It doesn't matter.

Momentarily, Pan straightened his spine, looking up, his typical reaction when someone entered or left the island.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It worked," Pan smirked. "Our friend's here."

Momentarily, I saw the shadow dive in the clearing with another boy in his arms.

The boy came falling to the ground, landing on a rock.

Peter stood up, opening his arms. "Welcome to Neverland."

The boy, a stocky thing of about sixteen with thick brown curls, stood and laughed. "I'll be damned! Peter Pan!"

Pan grinned. "Indeed."

The boy looked all around the site, barely sparing me a glance. "_Wicked!"_

He didn't question his surroundings in the slightest. I couldn't tell what was going in his mind, but he certainly looked too clean cut for Neverland.

Pan gestured to me then with a grand sweep of the arm, "Rufio, this's my boy Felix."

The boy, Rufio apparently, pursed his lips then, but stayed silent.

Pan gestured between me and the boy. "Felix, our new friend Rufio."

The rabbits were ready to eat momentarily. Rufio sat on a stump across from the log Peter and I shared as we all tore the gamey meat with out teeth, using large waxy leaves for plates.

Rufio and I spent the meal assessing the other, sizing each other up. In height he was somewhere between me and Peter, causing me to wonder if Pan enjoyed controlling things bigger than him.

I wasn't sure what to make of the new arrival. He was thick set, not fat and not fit. As far as I could tell, there was nothing to set him apart from anyone else that could have come to Neverland.

It wasn't apparent at the time, but Rufio was the antithesis of me. He was talkative and lewd to portray confidence he did not have. He was one to swing his blade before he even knew what he was fighting for. One to jump and ask questions. One to think before he obeyed.

Sensing the innate sense of competition between his two companions, Pan allowed for a devilish grin to overtake his face and decided it would be quite fun to see us both uncomfortable.

That is, he left us alone together.

I was content to sit in silence, staring into the fire whilst cleaning rabbit meat off a bone, but Rufio seemed to turn blue in the face every second without oratory.

"So, Felix, isn't it?" He said in an accent similar to Pan's. "How long have you been in Neverland?"

I embellished a bit, feeling obligated to do far more than one-up him. "A few years. Maybe a dozen."

He nodded. "So what's it like then? Living here?"

I shrugged. It was difficult to put into words.

"Fun and games?"

"More than that," I said throwing the leaf into the fire and picking up my club to continue fiddling with it.

"Brilliant." He said with a grin.

We fell into silence again, and I could all but feel Rufio's struggle with it. I smirked. He really did hate the quiet.

Then, he piped up.

"You and Pan ain't married, are you?"

I started, throat suddenly dry. "_What_?"

He shrugged. "'M just trying to figure it out. I thought Neverland was for kids. You don't lookit - like a kid I mean- is all."

I shook my head, sensing it spin. "We...we aren't married."

"How old are you anyhow?" He pompously assessed me. I half wanted to knock him out with my club then.

"Nineteen."

Nineteen in age, I thought, twenty in years. How long would it be before I forgot?

Rufio scoffed. "Sounds like an adult to me."

"Not if you don't choose to be." I muttered with a final tone.

"Ah, renouncing the adult world and all its bullshit." Rufio grinned. "Yeah, I think I'll like it here."

I snorted slightly, unsure what to make of him.

He continued to run his jaw, and I began to tune him out, wondering what on earth could be so great about hearing your own voice constantly.

But, by the end of it all, we grew into a comfortable dynamic. In everything but biology, Rufio became my brother.

Our relationship revolved around bullying each other, countering each other at every turn, and mutual trust in Pan. What else was necessary in a friendship?

Those days, while not up to par with the year before, were still happier than many of those that would come.

Pan would play his haunting tune, and Rufio and I would dance, jumping to the feral beat, beating sticks together. We'd circle the fire a thousand times a night, even after Pan stopped playing.

We both led Rufio on tours of the island, allowing me to demonstrate how well Pan's tours had paid off.

In one case, while Pan was on his way to make a dealing with the Natives, I took the opportunity to spout the exposition to Rufio as means of showing off.

"How'd they get here?" He asked as we shuffled out of the foliage and onto the plains that we so rarely tread. "I always thought Pan lived here alone."

Pan smiled, but kept walking forward.

Thus, I began the aforementioned exposition. A while back, before even Pan inhabited the island, there had been a deadly epidemic amongst a tribe of Natives in another realm. According to Pan, it was brutal. Lesions, boils, intense vomiting, coughing up lungs. A whole nasty business.

Eventually, the entire tribe wound up comatose. While under, they wound up in Neverland and never woke up.

When Pan came to Neverland for good, he could have wiped them all out and sent them back to their decaying bodies. Instead he graciously let them continue to live on the island with a few caveats.

Caveats, I believed, we were headed to their camp to discuss.

Pan grinned slyly behind him as I finished telling Rufio what happened. He didn't say anything, but the gleam in his eye rewarded me for my listening skills.

Soon enough, we arrived at the Native's encampment, dozens of wigwams stretching out over the plain. The tribe was so big in those days. They were like a colony of ants, busily working. Some of the people were stretching hide or painting pots, children ran and played, people talked and laughed together.

The enormous tribe was so disgustingly _together. _

As soon as Pan came into eyeshot, all the brightness faded from their faces. Heads ducked back to work, conversations stilled, and children ran behind their mothers' legs.

I smirked, adjusting the club on my shoulder. I loved walking one step behind Pan, but it was even more of a high when people were terrified like this.

"Rufio," He said in a moment. "Go get the Chief. He's in the big wigwam in the centre."

Rufio obliged, never one to be anxious over such things. Then Pan turned to me. "Get Tiger Lily."

I groaned inwardly, but did as he asked without question. He knew I actively disliked Tiger Lily, her defiant, begrudging personality, her reluctance to simply shut her mouth and do what we asked. I couldn't understand why _she _of all people was one of the handful of Natives Pan magically gave bilinguality to.

I entered her wigwam like a pufferfish, trying to institute my size and cut any preface she might have liked to give me.

She hadn't been expecting anyone, turning around she jumped at my looming form.

"_Iquiq!_" She gasped at her surprise, cursing in her language. Stilling her breath she looked up at me with dark brown eyes. "What do you want, Felix?"

I gave her a dangerous grin, enjoying her discomfort. "Pan wants you to come out."

She frowned. "Why did he bring you this time?"

At the time I didn't understand. Looking back it was rather obvious.

"Just follow me."

She rolled her eyes, but gestured that I should precede her out. I did so, not without looking over my shoulders to ensure she stayed on my tail.

Pan waited for us inside a particularly large wigwam, the Chief and a few other elders of political importance waited, sitting on mats on the floor while a small fire simmered between them, more smoke than flame, slithering up through the ceiling like a snake.

Rufio sat next to the door, out of the way, simply observing.

I entered the wigwam, taking a seat beside Rufio, holding my club securely in my hand lest it become necessary.

"Good, we can finally begin," Peter smiled in an uncharacteristically patronizing manner.

Tiger Lily looked down to her feet, sitting beside the Chief, glowering under her breath.

"Who's that?" Rufio whispered to me.

"Tiger Lily. Translator."

"She's kinda fit, yeah?"

I rolled my eyes.

Meanwhile, Peter stood up so his head was above even the tallest elder around him. "I've been meaning to talk about your borders."

Tiger Lily translated and in a split second one of the elders started to stand, ranting furiously.

Pan cocked his brow and turned to Tiger Lily.

She frowned. "He says that he doesn't understand. We stay in our borders."

Pan tutted. "Then why do I feel like you're getting a bit...careless with your expanse, hm?"

Tiger Lily stared at him, sensing exactly where this was going. She was begging and he was getting off on it. "Don't."

"Go on," Pan waved his arm. "Translate."

Rufio tilted his head towards me. "D'you know what's going on?"

"I can infer," I whispered back smoothly as the Chief grew blue in the face, glaring at Pan.

"Which is?"

Before I could answer, Pan cocked his brow and did so himself. "Oh, come now. You can't honestly say you use all the land I've let you have?"

Tiger Lily frowned. "We were here first."

Pan leaned down towards her, grabbing her chin between his fingers. "Yeah. But I'm the one with the big scary shadow. So do you really want to take any risks?"

She translated his plan, the words biting. Her eyes looked as though they were on fire.

"_Shit." _Rufio was enthralled. "This is rather good, isn't it?"

I ignored him, watching the scene play out. Pan strutted around the circle, looking around absently. "I'm not doing anything _drastic. _Just cutting your borders a bit."

After Tiger Lily translated, an argument erupted between the tribe leaders. Pan smirked, leaning against the woody wall of the wigwam to let them finish.

Rufio turned to me. "So why's he doing this?"

I shrugged. It didn't matter, did it?

"How much are you taking away from us?" Tiger Lily eventually asked once the elders had quieted.

Pan pursed his lips, looking up at the ceiling, as though he hadn't thought of it yet. He had, of course. He never walked into anything without knowing how it would go.

"Say about two leagues every which way?"

Tiger Lily blinked. "That leaves us with half a league."

Pan considered. "Well, look at that." His eyes gleamed. "More than I thought you'd get."

She never took her murderous eyes off Peter as she translated for him; he looked rather pleased with himself, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

The elders were stern. They weren't a group to lose their heads over anything, I knew, but I could tell that underneath the cool exterior they were seething.

Pan was brimming with quiet excitement, I could tell. The smirk on his face, the deviancy in his eyes. The feeling of satisfaction that radiated off him.

He made eye contact with me briefly, shot his eyebrows up, and then turned back to the group of people whose lives he consciously ruined in less than a second. That's what happens when you get power, you know, you do things because you can. And Peter would soon become _very _famous for it.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everybody who favorited/alerted this! I consider it my Christmas present.

Also, I am 107% aware I didn't follow the characterization of Rufio from _Hook. _I took my liberties due to the fact he never actually appeared in OUaT canon and I kind of loathe the movie he's originally from. So.

Leave a review if you feel like it, I enjoy getting them and it's nice to get ideas on how to improve.


	6. History Lesson

**Part 1**

**Chapter 6**

_History Lesson_

* * *

Neverland was always so peaceful in the early morning. Sometimes I'd wake up during that still time and evacuate the treehouse as quietly as possible so as not to wake the boys on either side of the room.

I'd sit outside on the logs we overturned by the campfire, watching the remaining coals cough out their last breaths in the cold morning air. I loved that time when everyone was still asleep, before the nocturnal animals burrowed into their nests for the day, before Pan woke me and Rufio for whatever game he had in store for the day, before life began.

I'd take down the hood of my clock, even though I usually hated leaving my head exposed, and I'd just sit and listen.

With Pan unconscious, Neverland was less controlled. Animals cut closer to camp, occasionally I'd see the faint silhouette or flashing yellow eyes of a tiger-like creature creeping in the fringe of forest around me. Often I'd wonder if it was sizing me up and assessing if I was too gamy for breakfast.

I'd hear animals fighting in the distance, I'd hear insects swarming not too far off, I'd hear the mermaid's singing their potential victims to their death.

There was a horrible danger to being outside alone in the jungle in the early morning.

Neverland, after all, is a jungle. And jungles are not to be trifled with.

But, the crux of the matter was that the danger was satisfying, and if I was willing to tolerate it, I'd gain welcome solitude.

Because no matter how much I grew to enjoy Rufio's company, and no matter how much I needed Pan's attention, there was something about the solitude I craved.

Perhaps it gave me time to sort out my thoughts, I'm unsure.

Perhaps I just grew high off the climate, and liked to have a while to soak it in before the day began. It was a sort of hiatus from living.

I didn't really need a hiatus, I knew. There was nothing going wrong, but still, something in me craved respite from the undeserved contentment of my life.

And so, I'd sit on a log, striking a stick with a dagger, and I'd listen to the natural music of the night.

Once or twice I caught myself reminiscing and thinking about the orphanage and the Missus. I was never sure why, it had been years and most of the time I never spared it a second thought, but in that lonely time of early morning, I grew sentimental.

I wondered how many people got out when Pan and I set the orphanage on fire. I nearly always hoped the Missus had gotten away. She might have been abhorred to me, but she hardly deserved to burn to death.

As for the boys who called me names? Well, all I have to say to them: _who's the faggot now? _

I'd like to say that as time went on my vendetta against them lessened, particularly since they were most likely dead, but some wounds just won't close.

So I have a problem with holding grudges. It wasn't as though anyone who actually mattered would do anything to give me a grudge in the first place. And in the meantime I had methods to channel my anger - through fights and spars and disemboweling various animals for supper.

It made savagery easier to stomach.

Then, after an hour or so of calm solitude, Pan would wake up, with Rufio following shortly after. We'd receive the day's agenda over a breakfast of leftover scraps, and just like that life would begin again.

With a never-ending commentary from Rufio.

Eventually I did grow used to it, though Pan's replies were something that took me a while longer to adjust. It was odd not having a monopoly of him, but I knew that it was how I was to live from that moment on.

And, at least Rufio was often rather entertaining.

Even if he did get some sick satisfaction from annoying me, and Pan's encouragement only made it worse.

And then there was the fact Rufio was a lewd bastard. If there was any fraction of an innuendo available in a conversation, be sure he'd grab on and run with it. It was vexing, but at least his teasing never insinuated I was less of a man. Because of that, sometimes I'd take his bait. Sometimes.

Sometimes I'd break his nose.

But it was the way we lived, the three of us, in Neverland, for half a century.

I functioned as scapegoat and middleman. And I was okay with it for the most part. Because sitting around a fire with the pulsing of the jungle around me and with the two boys with me made everything worth it.

Of course, that's not to say it never bothered me.

I remember one night in particular, when Pan was goading me to shoot at him with a poisoned arrow.

He'd been working on using magic to quicken his reflexes. We'd started shooting at him with dull arrows, and often he wasn't quick enough, and the arrows embedded into his hastily made wooden armor.

He'd gotten it once, and all of a sudden wanted to try it without armor and with the poison.

"I've got it, I'm sure." Pan said, his voice heavy with reason. "Don't you trust I'll catch it?"

"Of course I do," I said, "I don't trust _me_."

Pan rolled his eyes. "Expand your imagination then."

I paused. "Do we have to use the Dreamshade?"

"Think of it as incentive for me to get it right."

I was still hesitant.

Rufio chimed from behind me. "If he's too scared to do it I will."

Pan raised a brow. "Well?"

I looked down to the crossbow in my hand. I didn't want to shoot at Pan, but the conflict came from the fact that he was asking for it. I didn't want to deny him anything, but my incompetence with the crossbow frightened me.

Rufio was directly behind me, a cold hand on my shoulder. "Come on Felix. Just do it, it isn't that hard. Unless you don't think you can stomach it."

I growled, staring him down, towering over his form. Rufio, however, didn't seem to get the warning.

Possibly this can be a testament to the fact that Pan was laughing, enjoying the repartee.

"Back off," I shoved Rufio away from me, holding the crossbow a little closer to my chest.

"Oh baby," Rufio laughed dryly, fanning his face exaggeratedly, "Talk dirty to me."

I glared, even though I knew it wouldn't help. He knew how to pull all of my strings, less aptly than Pan, but he could still do it. The difference, however, seemed to be that while Pan pulled them for an end product, Rufio did just because he liked to make me angry.

Unfortunately, both boys were at my opposition.

"Come on then, hand it over." Rufio teased.

I rolled my eyes, beginning to have some semblance of fun. "I don't trust you with this, considering what you do with the rest of your weapons."

"The hell are you implying?"

"Nothing," I said tightly, trying not to smirk.

Seeing where I was going with it, Pan laughed, adding in, "I'm sure the sounds from your hammock last night was just from a stomach ache."

Rufio turned bright red.

"You might want to try mutism," I put in, sharing a quick glance with a Pan.

"Shut up Felix! You aren't exactly silent when you-"

"At least I don't do it with you two in the same room!"

"Oh yeah? Well at least I wait until a decent hour instead of running off in the middle of the-"

"_Boys!_" Pan clapped sharply. "Fun as our conversations about masturbation always are, it's time to get back on track."

I nodded, the fun of the previous conversation fading and the blood draining from my face. I knew I was a horrible shot. I couldn't hit a sleeping target. Why did Pan want me to do it?

I started to shake. What if I hit him? How could he - _Peter Pan _- seem so mortal in that moment? How could someone as commonplace for as me suddenly have the power to take his life with one mistake?

I refused to meet Pan's eyes, the intrigue and heat that was doubtless bubbling up in them.

Then I pulled the trigger.

The arrow whizzed through the air, humming as it did so. Heading straight for Pan.

And then it whizzed right past him, disappearing into the jungle.

"Good job, Felix." Rufio slapped the back of my head.

I retaliated with a kick to his shin.

Rufio recovered in moments and bid I give him the crossbow. Humiliation welling up through my cheeks, I would've turned away if not for the burning anxiety that forced me to continue watching.

Pan stood nonchalantly in front of a tree as Rufio fit a new arrow onto the crossbow. I tried not to let on that I was worried in addition to my stung pride.

Honestly, I might have blamed Pan or asking me to shoot at him initially. He knew I was a horrible shot and that I was much better at hand-to-hand combat. He knew that I'd want to do what he asked of me.

Come to think of it, I knew that he knew I'd miss.

I don't know his motivation, and I won't pretend to.

Rufio lifted the crossbow and with grace pulled the trigger. He never missed a shot.

Before I could blink, Pan stopped the arrow. It was in his hand, a centimeter away from his chest. He breathed heavily in victory. Rufio happily lifted the crossbow above his head, rejoicing. I myself couldn't help but smile, half in relief, and half simply basking in Pan's success as though it were my own.

There wasn't much time to celebrate, for in the next moment Pan's shadow swooped down from the canopy. By this point I'd become desensitized, but Rufio still started at the sight. Not that I blame him; the size, the cloudy darkness paired with the sharp red eyes were terrifying as all hell.

Pan's eyes grew large as he and his shadow had a silent conversation.

I didn't know much about it at the time. I knew the shadow would fly in other realms to give Pan information, but the motivations were ambiguous at the time.

"He's got magic?" He spat, the wheels in his head visibly turning. "Interesting. I've got a feeling he'll like it a bit too much."

Rufio and I exchanged confused glances.

"Keep an eye on his son," Pan looked up at his shadow, his eyes dancing with intrigue. "With a name like the Dark One, it seems stupidly predestined to come full circle."

I found Pan later that evening shuffling through the chest at the end of his bed. Throwing various cloaks and blankets around him, I meant to skirt around the mess to sit on my own hammock, but accidentally stepped on something lying on the floor that was definitely not fabric.

Jolting my foot up as quickly as possible, I examined the thing I stepped on. A cornhusk with a little blue vest. A little doll.

Confusedly, I picked it up.

Pan turned around to stand, his pied cloak in his hand. He started slightly when he saw me holding the doll.

"Yours?" I asked holding it out to him.

Pan shrugged. "In a way I suppose."

I waited for elaboration.

With a tiny smirk on his face that didn't match the sheer contempt on his face he said, "My son's, actually."

It was my turn to stare. "You have a son?"

"I did," He said, beginning a tale of a paramour he once had who'd forgotten to take her pennyroyal, ultimately saddling him with a son when she died in labor. He sighed with contempt, sitting on his mattress to finish the story. "I tried, you know. It's just - I didn't want it. I never wanted it."

I took a seat on the trunk, closing it slowly, invested in the story of this impossible boy.

"I'd considered drowning him so many times. I couldn't make myself do it. Would've been better if I had. He just...he destroyed everything." Pan dropped his neck and raked a hand through his hair. "I couldn't do anything for myself anymore. I couldn't gamble for my own gain, I had to give _him _food. I couldn't run off and find my fancy, I had to take care of this disgusting child. He took away my time. I already knew my youth was fading fast when I got him - (what was I, thirty-five?) but he just sucked the rest of it away. Wailing like a banshee."

He'd look at me for a moment, trying to gauge my reactions.

I'm horrible at interpreting Pan. I could never be half so clever and I won't pretend to know what was going on in his mind. But, to me, it appeared as though he was almost worried. Behind his typical haughtiness and the rage apparent I thought I saw something new. Something that wanted to tell someone. I thought it appeared as though he wanted to tell someone who wouldn't run away because he wasn't what he seemed. He wanted someone who wouldn't automatically assume he'd been lying to them.

Was I disoriented by his history? Well, yes. I can't see how I couldn't have been. The realization that Pan had once been an adult with a son was bothersome at its core. But really all it proved was he knew first-hand how awful growing up and facing the world could be. It gave him more credit.

And as for his son? Well, I'd heard the babies in the orphanage; I knew how they wailed. Children were fun for a short amount of time, but taking care of one? Frankly, I didn't blame him.

I paused, taking in the story in full. "So...how'd you get here?"

"The worm did something right." He smiled slightly, but then it faded off his face, a far off look coming into his eyes. "You know, I've been waiting for something to happen to him. For him to die so I could finally be rid of him entirely. So that every single thought that creeps up about him will fade into dust. But now he's gone and made himself immortal. He's The Dark One now."

Reading him was difficult in that moment. He was such a strange mixture of anger and something that almost resembled sentiment. Almost.

Something changed with us that day, at least from my point of view. The fact that Pan had a history, that he wasn't always Peter Pan, was similar to the adjustment I had to make when I learned his lived outside of dreams.

It made him seem more viable. Less vague. He'd had a rough past and was trying to move beyond it. He wasn't simply born a god; he'd become one by his own accord.

And I admired him even more for it.

"I don't know whether I want to kill him myself or give him a standing ovation for reprising my actions. I suppose he might be my son after all." Pan mused with a far off look in his eye.

"If he's an adult," I said, softly thinking of all the years that had passed since I'd been in Neverland, and wondering how many there'd been since Pan first arrived. "What do you have to worry about? He can't get here."

He was pensive. "I'm afraid I'm going to need him."

Not liking to see Pan in such strange countenance, I tried to cheer him. "What could you possibly need him for?"

At my words, Pan's typical grin took over his face once more. "Things like to...stay in the family, shall we say."

I gave him no indication that I understood.

"Don't be daft," He muttered irritably. Then he paused. "I suppose you wouldn't know, actually."

Time stopped for a second as I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

"Know what?"

"I need someone," He said slowly. "Something. The Heart of the Truest Believer. And I'll be damned if that Believer doesn't look like Rumplestiltskin. Not completely but-but fate wants to fuck with me somehow, I can feel it."

Closing the conversation, he stood, throwing the cloak over his shoulders, assessing any holes that time might have bitten into it.

"By the way, Felix," He said, using magic to repair the aforementioned holes. "Best not share any of that. Let's see how you deal with secrets."

"I'll die first."

"You're immortal here."

"Precisely."

I think that was the first time I saw it. For a split second, I thought I almost saw affection cross his face.

Almost.


	7. Absence of Gods

**Part 1**

**Chapter 7**

_ Absence of Gods_

* * *

Weeks passed in Neverland as though it were a few days. It was hard to tell where one began and ended. I was at ease with it, however, and the three of us were never bored.

However, I did begin to notice that things were becoming more active on the island.

Pan's shadow would come and tell us about his son - the Dark One - and how his life was steadily disintegrating. Pan seemed elated by this fact. I wagered he thought that the Dark One's son was this Truest Believer he had mentioned to me earlier.

There came a day when, after we had finished our supper, Pan announced we'd all be moving out of the treehouse in favor of a more nomadic lifestyle, sleeping in a campsite.

Rufio, who was rather ambivalent to sleeping outdoors, chewed on the side of his mouth. "Why?"

"We're going to make more friends." Pan just sent him a grin. "I once told Felix that I had plans, and those plans required a-oh, what phrase did I use?"

"Pack mentality," I said without thinking about it.

Rufio rolled his eyes.

"Right," Pan said. "Well, it's about time to get that started."

He told us of his plan to go to a faraway realm and many kingdoms, and travel from village to village. It was his intention, he told us, to play his pan flute and attract boys who felt unloved and unwanted. He'd grow in company and then bring them back to Neverland to be with us forever.

I remember thinking how wonderful and how chivalrous Pan was for delivering me from my horrible life, and he was about to do it again for no small number of others. I was partly amazed by his generous philanthropy and partly jealous he was extending it beyond just Rufio and me.

The two of us were told to cut down the trees while he was away and create a camp for us and the boys he brought back. Lean-to shelters, a bigger fire pit, weapons. He told us to simply use our imaginations.

Easier said than done.

He left us for a few days that time - or perhaps it was a week. Or two.

As usual, whenever Pan wasn't invested in the atmosphere, Neverland shifted. The tiger who often stalked me became more present in the brush, bats would occasionally dive at us, the insects bit more often.

Sometimes I think that he did it on purpose - that Neverland wasn't really so volatile just because he was missing. That he made it that way to make us need him more.

I don't know why he'd need to manipulate it since we had every reason to need him anyway, but I'm sure he felt it necessary.

Building structures doesn't come quickly to those who haven't been taught. Rufio and I struggled with the mechanics for the first day or so, trying to figure out the best way to cut down the trees and take the scraps of wood to create lean-to shelters.

The first time a tree almost fell on my head I inwardly cursed my incredibly irrelevant skill set for being so limiting. What did table manners matter when you almost had a gum tree fall on your skull?

Eventually we realized it was best for Rufio to believe the trees down so we didn't have to bother cutting them.

But then came the matter of actually building the shelters.

We tried to secure the large sticks and slabs of wood together with rope, but they wouldn't stay straight.

I cut a longer branch in half and patiently whittled it down so it was flat along one end. Then I took it along the bottom of the sticks we'd lined up on the ground, tying them together so it made a rickety sort of wall.

"Not bad," Rufio mentioned over my shoulder. "Just one thing. The holes. What about when it rains?"

We considered filling them with mud, but that would get wet in the rain and dry in the heat ultimately losing all structural integrity.

The solution to that didn't take very long; the waxy leaves above us would suffice to work over clay.

And so we continued to work, winding up building about five in total.

When that was over with, some time had passed (a few days, perhaps three or four but I was unsure). I was beginning to feel the effects of Pan's absence.

Even if he was controlling the atmosphere from where he was, making us remember to need him, there was still a piece missing. A piece of what, I can't say for certain but it didn't seem quite right for me and Rufio to have full reign of the island alone.

I knew it was only for a few days but, well, I missed Pan. I hadn't been without him for half a century; it was alarming to see no sign of him in the shade of the forest or to turn about and not see him magically appear a half pace behind me.

Of course, his shadow still lurked up in the trees. Keeping a keen watch on us but otherwise staying out of our way. It was partly reassuring and partly frightening. I wasn't sure why it stayed so near, when Pan was on the Island it often kept to itself, but I liked to think that it was there to protect us from whatever tiger-like beast was waiting.

It had led us to the campsite Pan wanted. A ravine of sorts, a dried up riverbed with enough trees to tie hammocks on but enough clearing to build a campfire and have a place to dance. It was also private and concealed enough to not require a lot of security - only one wall was necessary where the valley dipped and sloped downwards. If left unattended, it was likely anyone or anything could have snuck up on the potential campsite.

After the shelters, this back wall was our next priority.

We were moving a particularly large boulder into the camp, a large chunk of granite that had broken off from the cliff. It was heavy and we had to stop every once in a while to stop our backs from giving out.

"Where's the damn shadow when we need him?" Rufio panted, "He could lift this no problem."

"I imagine Pan called him to whatever world he's in now." I shrugged. "Besides he isn't ours to command."

Rufio rolled his eyes. "Yeah but you'd think he could help us out."

"I don't think it's in his interests at all."

He chortled and mused on as we took our rest from the long drag.

That's when he said it.

"You talk in your sleep y'know."

I imagine my face fell as I was filled with a horrible sense of deja vu. And, unlike other times, I remembered exactly where it came from.

"And?" I spat.

"And it makes it hard for me to get to sleep at night because you won't shut up." Rufio recoiled a bit, likely confused by my change in demeanor. "Shit, mate, retract the claws."

I leaned back on the boulder, offering an apologetic face. I wasn't really all that sorry - he did have a way of crossing lines. I couldn't be blamed for treading with caution.

He paused. "Why so defensive? What sort of stuff to you dream about then? Eh? What's this? You blushin' Felix?"

I smacked the back of his head. "Let's just move this thing."

We continued rolling the boulder until we reached the ravine. Lack of decent planning was our undoing, however, as the loose ground under us collapsed, and the boulder rolled down the dirt wall, crashing directly into one of the lean-tos.

Days of work, destroyed in an instant. For some reason, it was undeniably humorous rather than enraging. Rufio was doubled over his knees, out of breath. I didn't find it nearly as amusing, but I did join him, my shoulders shaking.

He choked back laughter, "Suppose Pan'll want us to remake that?"

I nodded, controlling my smile. "I imagine."

"Well, let's get to it, then."

His curls were plastered to his head from sweat and I'm fairly certain I looked equally as awful as we tied new branches together, trying to get the grooves and bumps of the bark to link together without open spaces building a sufficient wall, securing it with fraying rope and filling in vacant spaces with clay and leaves.

When we were through we allowed ourselves a small break.

Rufio believed up a bottle of some kind of whiskey, took a long drag and then handed it to me.

The bitter drink burned my throat, nevertheless I took a few sips before handing it back to him.

"Felix," He said after a minute, drumming his finger on the neck of the bottle. "What's it like with boys?"

I choked.

"Sex," He clarified as though it weren't obvious. "With boys. What's it like?"

My jaw dropped, and I blinked a few more times than necessary. "Why are you asking?"

"Don't flatter yourself." He sniggered, but then read my expression. "What I mean is 'thanks but no thanks.' You're definitely the last person I'd ever think of-well, eh."

I thought he was embarrassed, but I couldn't quite tell.

"Boys...not really my thing. It's just the only thing I know about you personally - unattached from Pan I mean. Figured it'd be a conversation starter."

I stared at him dumbly, incredulous that the only thing he could think up for a conversation between the two of us revolved around sex.

Then again, what else would it be?

_Wait, _I thought. _The only thing he knows about me? _

"How'd you know?"

It was his turn to look surprised. "You're kidding, right?"

I didn't think myself obvious and as such his assurance in the matter was jarring. Particularly since I was unused to people reacting so well. Memories a night I spent in jail for getting caught flooded my brain.

"Well, shit." I took an abnormally large gulp of the whiskey. "Does it matter to you?"

"What?"

"Does it matter?" I pressed on, hoping I wasn't about to lose a friend.

"Don't get all emotional on me," He shook his head. "As long as I'm not in earshot I really don't care. So no specifics."

"I'm not telling you about my sex life," I muttered. Not that there was too much to tell, I thought, for the past fifty years it had been a one-man show.

I smiled, noticing the Pan-like expression that had spilled into my cadence.

"Fair enough," Rufio shrugged. "What else d'you do? Other than follow Pan like a puppy, that is."

There really wasn't an answer for him. The simplistic life view was easy enough to grasp. I didn't need pages upon pages of character development; I needed Pan and the contentment he provided.

We returned to working on the wall, rolling boulders and using trees for structural needs as we talked.

"What about you?" I asked after a while, realizing that I knew even less about him than he knew about me.

"Me?" Rufio tied two trees together, a vein in his arm popping out as he did so. "Boring and typical. I was an acolyte."

"A what?" I frowned at the strange word.

He blinked at me. "Y'know, I lit candles in a monastery."

I nodded, securing a rock into a crevice with clay. "For what god?"

"The...only one?"

My brow dropped at that moment. Although I'd unwittingly adopted the practice myself in Neverland, monotheism was an alien concept.

Something clicked between us in that moment. We'd never before considered that we were from different realms, but in that moment it became obvious.

How thoroughly incredible, I thought, that Pan was able to pick and choose from different realms and create such seamless assimilation; Pan was able to create friendships and bonds between people who otherwise wouldn't have existed on the same plane.

Utterly incredible.

We didn't have to wait long after we finished the wall to take notice of how well it worked.

After a particularly long day of digging a pit for a fire, we heard a small commotion behind the rocks. A single feminine voice ranting in a familiar language we couldn't understand.

Using all stealth we could, we snuck around the trees, ambushing the delicate figure, my dagger pressed lightly against her stomach while Rufio held her hands behind her back.

Tiger Lily, despite the show, didn't seem frightened.

"The wall," She said without preface. "Why?"

"To stop intruders," I said, moving the knife upwards slowly. "People who leave their lands."

She frowned. "I came to see Pan."

"He's not in at the moment."

She blinked then, confused. "Well then where is he?"

"None of your business, darling." Rufio answered, turning his voice into a low drawl. "But perhaps I could assist you?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. Him."

"What's your issue?" I was certain to make my tone more commanding than inquisitive.

She shifted her shoulders, narrowing her eyes. "Be so kind to let me go first."

I looked up to Rufio, he pouted a little but conceded. My dagger promptly returned to its holster.

Tiger Lily nodded her supercilious replacement of appreciation and squared her shoulders. She focused in on me, blatantly ignoring Rufio's breathing down her neck.

"When he returns," She said, a cool facade barely masked her apparent contempt for the situation. "Tell him he's won. The beasts have migrated out of our lands. The soil's been bled dry. We can't sustain our camp in such confined areas."

"Are you questioning him?" I demanded, hand on the handle of my dagger once more.

"I wasn't finished." She snapped. Inhaling deeply, she started to speak but then snapped. "_Iquiq! _This is-Why do I have to-well, who else would it be? It's just- why do you like him so much?"

Naturally, I was the one to respond. "He cares about us."

Something grew in her eyes then, and she took a step back. She looked disoriented or disturbed, likely from my easy answer.

"I can tell you he doesn't." She grew grave. "Our shaman can see the future sometimes. Pan will be there when you both breathe your last. And he'll have instigated it."

"You lying bitch!" I was at her throat again with my dagger.

Her eyes narrowed, the gravity stripped away. She seemed to recall we were enemies then. "Why so panicked? Because you believe me?"

I was completely livid. How dare she insinuate _anything _about Pan? She knew nothing.

He was in another realm, delivering other boys from feeling unloved. He was doing them a service. He was taking them away from having to grow up and face a cruel world.

And, more to the point, he delivered me, trusted me, and was not capable of doing wrong. If he did something an unenlightened person might find immoral, he certainly had a reason for his actions that turns the tables entirely.

It's Pan. He cares.

She was just trying to intimidate us, I could tell. Trying to get in our heads for some reason. I pressed my dagger a little harder, beads of blood started to appear.

"Felix…" Rufio nudged me. "He won't be happy if you kill her."

Resigned with the fact, I stepped away. Dropping my dagger on the ground, I crossed my arms and leaned against a tree sulking.

Meanwhile, Rufio took the position to speak with Tiger Lily, a bit more polite this time. "I don't know what you're playing at, but don't pretend to be smarter than us."

She sucked in her cheeks. "Suit yourself. You're both digging your own graves."

She sighed and began to walk away, almost floating over the underbrush. I wished I could have bid her good riddance.

"Wait," Rufio called after a moment, surprising both of us. "You never told us what we need to tell Pan."

She pressed her lips together, a disgusting look of self-pity took over her angular features.

"Tell him," She paused, swallowing slowly. "Tell him I said yes."

She disappeared in the forest then, Rufio tinted different shades of scarlet, and I blanched until I was nearly transparent.


	8. Where Music Falls to Deaf Ears

**Part 1**

**Chapter 8**

_Where Music Falls to Deaf Ears_

* * *

In Pan's absence, my infatuation with him grew more severe.

I'm not sure if it was something he'd arranged. The question of Pan's ability or disability to access my dreams in Neverland was one I couldn't afford to overthink.

If he did meddle while I slept, there were literally no secrets between us. And if that was the case, I merely had to wait it out until he'd had his fun or something happened.

And if he did not?

Well, it was still a case of waiting it out.

He owed me nothing; I owed him everything. I'd be whatever he wanted me to be. And if that ended with friend and servant, that would be where it ended. I wouldn't allow my thoughts to get in the way and ruin it. I didn't want him to think it was the only reason I followed him.

But still, whenever I'd wake up in the middle of the night, a cold sweat covering my body in a thick film accompanied by a hard-on that pounded and prickled as though it were burning, I couldn't help but hope he was instigating it.

The fact it was at its worst when he was gone, however, was discouraging.

Sick hope offered a contrary opinion that, maybe, it might be him reminding me that I needed him in a more direct way.

But I refused to think too much on it. It'd drive me insane, I knew.

Forever is a long time to be insane.

Thankfully, just as the dreams and fantasies were beginning to cross lines and affect my actions at night, Pan came home.

Pan arrived with the other boys in the evening. The sky above the canopies tinted red, the humid air was losing its heat, and Rufio and I were sharpening a new collection of spears we fashioned together from sticks and sharp rocks.

The air billowed with magic, and I spun around so quickly my hood blew off. Pan stood in the clearing, surrounded by a group of about a dozen ratty boys. They all had a likeness about them, the way they stood apprehensively, looking to Pan in a mixture of excitement and confusion.

The likeness ended there, however. The boys were of all age ranges between seven and nineteen, were dark and pale, fat and skinny, some were pretty and some were ugly. Every bit of the spectrum of humanity.

Pan stood in the center, a pace or so ahead of them, his pied cloak warm and fiery in the speckled light of the setting sun. He smiled in a way that was too bright, too happy, as he gestured to the site.

The camp filled with the din of a dozen crudely excited boys. I didn't like the noise.

It took a few minutes, and Pan just watched the group with something alight in his eyes. Something like a wolf watching a shepherd fall asleep.

He walked forward, closer to me and Rufio, positioning himself so we formed a triangle with him at the point.

Quieting the group, he introduced me and Rufio to the crowd. He followed it with a voice made light by what I was sure was his most charismatic smile. "Welcome home, boys!"

There was a large cheer from the group.

I could hear Pan smiling as he tilted his head, sifting his shoulder backwards. "Here in Neverland, you'll have no rules. You won't be told how to behave or when to sleep or run."

He had an impeccable way of building up grandeur. I felt a sort of similar excitement to the new boys bubbling in my chest, even though I knew he was lying.

We would have rules, or rather one. That rule, of course, was to do whatever Pan wanted. Which occasionally involved sleeping at a certain time and definitely involved running. But he did have a way of making you want to obey.

I wasn't sure why he was lying, but I assumed he had his reasons. Perhaps he wanted to make them comfortable for their first night. Perhaps he was manipulating the situation to get them more excited.

Why one might need additional excitement upon arriving to Neverland was a mystery to me, yet somehow the notion wouldn't escape my skull.

And the boys still cheered. Some of them clapped each other on the back, some simply pumped their fists in the air as though they'd just tasted victory.

And I suppose technically they did.

After assessing the excited boys for a few moments, Pan turned back to me and Rufio with a grin I like to think was more genuine than the one he'd doubtlessly been sporting.

"What do you think?"

Rufio smiled. "Brilliant. Things are gonna get interesting."

Pan's eyebrows arched. "You've never been more right."

It wasn't my place to form opinions on the other boys, but I was tentative. All I could draw from the scenario was that they were loud.

Loud, excitable - and I knew that they needed this. They needed Neverland, maybe as much as I did. It was a calming thought, albeit a threatening one.

It was a new current in my life, one I hadn't expected, but one I had to go along with. They had heard Pan's flute, which meant they did not feel loved. And in that, I suppose, we were all equal.

And that - that equality - was what was threatening. Part of me knew I'd always be better than them. But on the off chance that I wasn't it made my stomach constrict and heat build up in me.

"By the way," Pan said, reaching behind his back and pulling out a black mass. He stepped forward and plopped a dusty bowler hat on Rufio's head. Ticking his head to the side, he addressed Rufio. "Give them the tour, will you?"

He looked elated. I couldn't blame him; the realization that Pan thought you intelligent enough to maneuver Neverland alone was a great one. It was an honor, an initiation of some sort.

The boys disappeared along with their din, and with a small sigh of relief I sat down on the log once more. It was barely a few seconds before I felt Pan come up behind me. And no time after that before I felt something pulled taut against my throat, cutting off my airways.

"I didn't forget about you," Pan said with what sounded like a smirk, pulling tighter.

I spluttered, failing to understand the sudden attack. It hurt, whatever it was, pressing down into my throat.

But that pain surged through me, building from my throat through my whole body to my toes. The material tried to assimilate into my skin, and the contact, the pressure, was elating.

He held it there for a few moments, and then let go. I thought I felt his nails scrape against my skin, causing goosebumps.

He fell onto the log beside me, legs on either side of the wood. His eyes were full of laughter and mischief and despite the sudden assault I realized it was really just a fun game he'd been playing.

There was still coth on my throat, and I reached up for it, realizing he tied a scarf around my neck. A nice gesture, although a fairly violent one.

"What's this?"

"A game."

I tried to evaluate him. "You're in a good mood."

He nodded. "Everything's going according to plan, Felix. It was easy - almost too easy, not enough of a challenge, to get them. They came like insects to flame."

An apt comparison, I thought pensively.

"I managed to spy on my son," He added in, swinging his leg over the log to sit beside me. "There isn't quite enough antipathy in Baelfire just yet. Give it a year or two, and he'll be with me without question."

"And do you think he's that Believer?" I asked, assuming this Baelfire was Rumplestiltskin's son.

Pan shrugged, knowing more than he was letting on and I just had to let it go. I'd find out eventually, just as I'd eventually find out why he needed the heart.

"You like them?" I asked after a bit, twitching my head over to where the boys disappeared.

"Oh, they'll suit my needs fine." He sighed contentedly, "We'll have to start them on training soon."

My brows knit together. "What are we training them for?"

"For war." He smiled. "Or something very like it."

I paused, looking at him, bidding he continue.

"We're making soldiers. Hunters." He paused. "A group."

_A family. _

I started at my interjection. Of course, I'd already referred to Pan as my family in my inner monologue, but to hear something of equivalency from his mouth was a new level entirely.

"I'll want you to start training them tomorrow," Pan went on. "Swords, clubs all that."

He smirked. "I think we'll have Rufio handle the archery, though."

"Probably for the best," I said, not allowing it to phase me.

We fell back into our silence again. I had a terrible premonition that these moments were going to become lesser and lesser, and so I allowed the scene to sink in. Hearing nothing but the crackle of the fire and the soft cottony sound of Pan's breath beside me.

"So what do you think of them?" He asked me after a beat, pulling out his dagger and allowing the fire to reflect off the blade.

"Does it matter what I think?" I responded evenly.

"Yes." Pan looked at me as though I had said something strange, implied there was some sort of inclusivity in our relationship that wasn't there.

That annoying sense of deja vu came over me again.

My heartstrings snapped as I felt the humid heat rush to my head. There was something in the way he spoke, some sort of subtext in his intonation that reminded me of mutualism.

Not the brand of mutualism I dreamt about, but mutualism nonetheless.

By the time Rufio and the rest of the boys returned to camp, the night was blacker than ink. Thanks to the large bonfire, the world was colored in shades of gold.

When they broke through the branches to enter the camp, Pan shifted away from me slightly on the log. We hadn't been sitting terribly close, but I did wonder momentarily over the implications.

Rufio wore his typical grin, as he gestured grandiosely behind him, revealing a few blood-spattered boys carrying a speckled equine creature. "Figured today was cause for celebration."

Pan stood up, approval smacked across his face. "Let's dress it, then."

As it turns out, I was one of four who actually knew how to skin an animal. Well, one of four not including Pan. But we couldn't expect him to help us; he'd not get his hands dirty, and so the four of us hung the equine and began to skin and gut it.

While we were doing this, the rest of the boys fought loudly over hammocks and bedrolls and arrows and spears and swords and clubs.

We roasted the meat on the rotisserie as the commotion and excitement kept up. The boys grabbed sticks and pretended to fence, they threw their spears into the wall Rufio and I had meticulously built.

Of course, I wasn't surprised. They were acting like typical boys. If composure weren't a priority of mine I might have joined them. I almost smiled and almost grimaced thinking that this would be the reality of forever.

But, then again, with Pan forever was never really forever.

"All right boys!" Pan cried out after we had eaten. "Now that we're done, how about a song?"

I watched, sitting back on my log, watching as the boys picked up sticks from the stack of firewood and used them to create an erratic percussion. It wasn't to any time, and none of it was simultaneous. It was chaos, and that, I thought, was perfect. Maybe they wouldn't be so bad, after all.

They jumped around in the circle, I thought in anticipation for the flute, smacking their sticks together and waving their limbs erratically.

Round and round they went, casting shadows over the flames, long and enigmatic. It was humorous, I thought, to see the contrast in the dancing. The tall and lanky doing the same movements as the short and chubby. It was quite the picture.

Of course, that didn't answer to me why they were dancing. Pan hadn't started playing yet, I thought, and wondered what was taking him so long to start.

That's when Rufio came around the bonfire, still moving with some sort of rhythm despite there being none.

"Why aren't you dancing, mate?" He asked.

"What are you talking-"

My voice shorted out at the same time my mind did when my eyes caught Pan.

He had his pan flute to his lips, his fingers working meticulously over the holes, as he sauntered around with his typical haughty swagger.

He was playing his flute but I couldn't hear it.

I couldn't hear a goddamn thing.

* * *

**End Part 1 **

**Author's Note: **For anyone who's following the story as I update, I regret to inform you that updates are going to happen less and less. I'm back to school from the holidays, and back to work as well. Just know that it won't be updating every few days now, though I hope to still get at least a chapter done per week.


	9. First Night with the Boys

**Part 2**

**Chapter 9**

_First Night with the Boys_

* * *

I paused, waiting to see if the flute's music would reach my ears.

I heard nothing but the pounding of the forest, the stomping of boots, the clash of sticks, the snarl of the tiger lurking in the underbrush.

It's a mouthful, but believe me when I say the jungle never before seemed so silent.

The flute that must have been so much louder than usual to breach the percussion, had muted in my ears.

"I can't hear it."

The second I vocalized the realization, Rufio's face contorted into a puzzled mask. He was still moving, stomping in a circle, still taken by the music. It would be rather comical if I hadn't just found myself face to face with quite the conundrum.

He danced away, half moved by the music and half moved by a look of panic and something close to anger on his face.

It didn't take much to figure out why I couldn't hear Pan's flute.

The flute could only be heard by those who felt unloved. My deafness to it indicated that I no longer felt that way.

It would seem as though I felt loved.

_Ha. _

This was an issue of goliath proportions.

If I were to sit down and think logically, mapping out all our interactions with painstakingly obsessive detail, I knew there was no way my thoughts could match the feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Pan did not love me.

No, scratch that.

Pan_ does _not love me.

It was - and_ is _- a painful realization.

And, if I'm going to be perfectly honest, I get off on it.

The total agony wanting someone, of _feeling _as though they wanted you too, only to know intellectually they did not was mortifying. Yet, in a different way than I was used to. It didn't trample my pride, just cut my heartstrings. And for that, I'd sit by passively, secretly dwelling on the pain that made it feel more real, as though it could amount to something someday.

Even though I was a bit wrong on the specifics, as future years would indicate, it's all still applicable.

I don't mind it when Pan tortures me.

It was the closest I figured I'd get. Besides, I reasoned, what did reality matter? As long as I enjoyed the emotional strain, as long as I damned what my mind told me and simply laid back and felt loved, I was content. Just so long as I didn't allow it to affect my actions or blur my judgement.

The contentment from having a friend, from mattering more to him than the speckled array of new boys on the island, and the pain of feeling one way and knowing my feelings couldn't be more wrong was close enough to reciprocity that it didn't matter.

The boys were dancing around the fire for hours. I remained still, elbows locked on my knees, watching them.

The dance was ridiculous. The more I watched it the more ridiculous it became. But there was a chaos to it, a sort of undomesticate abandonment that lit me with envy.

For a moment I wished I could still hear the flute.

But then Pan propped his leg up beside me on the log, and I expelled the thought immediately.

He lowered the flute from his lips, and the dancing continued. Leaning forward onto his knee, his eyes skirted around between the dancing boys. I hadn't gotten such a close look at his forearm before and had to suppress the urge to touch it.

After a little while, he looked down at me, as though finally registering that I hadn't always sat stationary at night.

"What?" I asked, my voice barely breaking through the pounding of staves and the stomping of two dozen boots.

"You're not dancing."

"Can't dance to something I can't hear," I said before I could control what escaped my mouth.

No sooner had I said it than I was filled with waves upon waves of inexplicable and inexorable guilt.

"Can't you?" Pan said with a twitch to his eyebrow. In a breathy voice he added, "Interesting."

The area below my abdomen constricted, and I leaned forward, covering myself, and pleading to end the exchange.

Pan rarely listened to my ideas and suggestions, but he did whenever it really mattered. And, with a cavalier nod, he accepted my request and closed that conversation for good.

Everything was so strange that first night; I couldn't imagine that eventually it would become as commonplace as the crickets and buzzing insects and snarling wild cats.

The majority of the boys had retired to their bedrolls and hammocks, I laid in my own hammock lazily, not nearly tired enough to sleep. I was simply staring up at the constellation that peeked out from behind the leaves and branches: a satyr with his arms outstretched, dancing to a silent beat.

In my imagination the satyr began to dance, flailing about much like the boys around the fire had. It was a nearly identical scenario, since I couldn't hear the song the satyr was dancing to either, but it had an air of surrealism to it that kept me on my back, staring forward.

The scene grew more elaborate, the inky sky turned into a great expanse of dark fire, a huge wall of grey and black as the creature threw his arms up and stomped his cloven hooves. He seemed so near to me. I almost entertained the thought of reaching out to touch the coarse fur over his bowl-legged lower half.

It shifted as more constellations like him joined, thrashing around and keeping some sort of lyrical time together.

The original satyr stomped in the center, attracting the most attention, when a taller variant approached him. They circled each other a few times before latching together, morphing into the same stars, and adjusting into a position that isn't physically possible for creatures with goat legs.

I forced myself out of the scene, musing inwardly that my preoccupation with base matters was starting to rival Rufio's.

That's when I heard it. A muffled whimper, a louder cry. It was startling enough to make me falll out of my hammock.

From the ground I saw them, shivering into their bedrolls, covering their eyes and wiping tears from their faces.

A small voice cried out for their father.

It didn't add up. If they felt so unloved that they left, what were they whining about?

Pan had delivered them from hell, but there they were begging to go back?

Their noses ran and they whined all throughout the night.

I wrongfully assumed that they were just getting used to Neverland, and as they came to accept their new home the cries would stop.

If you ask me, they only got worse with time.


	10. Assimilation

**Part 2**

**Chapter 10**

_Assimilation_

* * *

The new boys didn't assimilate. On the contrary, the group dynamic changed to suit them. Pan's attention was distributed differently, and he even limited the places on the island we could go, saying he needed a place to get away from it all.

I too wished I could have a place to get away, but it wasn't my place to offer such a selfish suggestion.

There were fifteen of us on the island when it started, and it steadily grew as Pan's shadow would drop more boys into our camp. Boys who said they believed in Peter Pan and were miserable in their lives. Boys who needed Neverland. Eventually we grew passed thirty, causing complaints from time to time about how crowded it was getting.

As our numbers increased, it was a sort of obligation of mine to introduce the new arrivals to the island. Rufio and I, occasionally with a few of the more charismatic boys, went to the beach or the wood to explain the miracle that had just occurred.

And if they disagreed that it was a miracle Rufio always had his crossbow loaded.

It didn't happen much, most of the boys were rightfully ecstatic to be in such a place. Usually they couldn't contain themselves when we'd lead them into camp to meet Pan, thinking about all the games they'd play and all the fun they'd have.

Ironically, Pan never waited too long to assign a metier for the new arrivals. Some were required for maintenance, some served as sentries and scouts to make sure the Natives, Mermaids, and other creatures stayed in their place. Some were hunters, some were cooks. Et cetera.

As for me, I simply remained faithfully by Pan's side.

When I wasn't directly to his right, I'd teach the new arrivals how to handle clubs and spears. Hand-to-hand combat was a strength of mine, even if I was a piss poor teacher.

I don't think my teaching ever did much for them; it was all Pan. This became more and more obvious as time went on.

"Eyes up," I reminded a boy standing across from me one spring afternoon, trying to knock a blunted stave away from his hands. "You won't be a threat if you're looking at your feet."

The sweat stained boy nodded shakily, tightening his grip until his knuckles turned white over the wood.

A circle of boys surrounded us, cheering and crying out for victory for one of us. Mostly for him.

I smashed my stave downwards, almost breaking his in two, poking at his stomach, causing him to dash away, hobbling over inarticulate feet.

"Don't fumble like that," I swung at him. "Trips you."

He nodded, assuming a stance similar to mine, and the spar continued.

I poked him in his stomach; he fell back. He took a moment to get his breath back while I continued to prod as his legs, hitting under his knees. Returning to a standing position, he began whacking at my stave.

It was nothing like sparring with Pan. This boy had no skill.

I was clearly in control. The familiar adrenaline rush from fighting still overtook me, or wanted to, in my dominance. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to have such blatant power over something smaller than me.

But I had a responsibility so I couldn't think about it too much or let it go to my head.

He met my stave with decent precision for my purposefully delayed attacks, hitting in the middle, and trying to sashay away from me. He'd forget to defend and I often came crashing down on the slope of his shoulder, causing a pink welt to appear on contact.

The fight took itself to the wall at the edge of the camp.

"Get up." I told him gesturing to the now sun-blanched rock wall. "I'm taller than you, use your surroundings to gain leverage."

He obliged, giving me a questioning look. I nodded, going further to instruct him how to notice weakness. To see if your opponent favors right or left and try to throw them off guard.

"Break my balance." I told him.

Although it was a simple enough instruction, he didn't seem to really get it, simply hitting my weapon over and over again.

"Hit me," I insisted, "Not the stick."

He looked panicked. "What if I hurt you?"

I half wanted to laugh, honestly doubting he could even if he tried.

Pan beat me to it, however, appearing out of thin air and leaning against a tree. "If you're worried about that, Marmaduke, how can you ever expect to go on any adventures?"

The boy - Marmaduke apparently - frowned; clearly the thought hadn't registered before.

"I need you," Pan continued, turning to the company, "_All _of you to be as brave and imaginative as possible. You're in Neverland, after all; you can be anything you want to be."

The boys shuffled and murmured agreement under their breaths.

"Besides," Pan pressed on, giving me a bright look. "Felix is tougher than he looks. I bet I could do anything to him and he'd barely flinch. Or maybe not."

I scolded myself inwardly for imagining a suggestive tone in his words.

Marmaduke nodded, inhaling deeply, and wielding the stick in his hands a bit tighter than before.

Leave it to Pan to provide perfect motivation.

In mere moments, Marmaduke suddenly learned combat very well, and I was on the defensive. I skittered away, careful to demonstrate the control I often bragged about. Meeting him in the midst of an attack was nothing special, he was still a novice, but I couldn't deny that he definitely seemed to have a better grasp of what he was doing.

Swift movements countered each other, I'd charge to stab his stomach, he'd slip out of the way and hit me in the back. Clever. He'd try to knock my weapon out of my hand, and I'd use the pressure against him, almost accomplishing the same task.

And so it went. The cheers from the the other boys, calling out for my defeat, almost gave me a headache, and probably would have if I wasn't so focused on knocking the stick out of the boy's hand and winning.

Yes, so Pan's presence might have been motivation for me as well.

Marmaduke swung his stave with a little more force, drawing it high to hit me on the head. I managed to quell the blow. Then low, trying at my knees. I used the stick as a shield and pushed him back.

The cheers grew louder and more annoying. They all wanted me to lose. Somewhat irksome.

He faked one way and drew his stick in the opposite direction, hitting my shoulder.

"You're learning."

He nodded at my comment, but having learned, he didn't stop swinging his makeshift weapon.

That's when the ground loosened under me. While I was off balance, Marmaduke seized the opportunity and slammed his stick on my chest with reasonable force for someone so scrawny.

With my equilibrium off, I fell to the ground, stave out of my hand. His eyes were big, breath hitching as though it was hard to believe that I'd faltered.

I was a little shocked myself.

I peered up at him from under my hood, after a moment of intimidating him with eye contact, I nodded. "Good."

He smiled broadly, holding his arms above his head in victory as the boys ran to him to show their congratulations. Pan hung back slightly, shoulders bobbing almost unnoticeable with laughter, as he offered slow and deliberate applause for the boy.

As Marmaduke accepted the hearty back-pats and congratulations from the rest of the boys, I sat up in the dirt and took a moment to take a better look at my new pupil.

He was one of the younger set, and if appearances were any indication he was twins with the boy currently ruffling his hair. Brown hair and grey eyes and a set of freckles that made him look absurd when he was focused. If he had been perhaps two years older I'd have had the grounds to call him attractive.

But, as it was he was fourteen. And it wasn't as though I was going to have sex with the boys, anyway.

Well, not the younger ones.

It was first drawn to my attention one hot afternoon, while I was sitting against the wall, tossing my club up in the air. Pan was a few paces away, watching some of the boys race up a rope.

Rufio slid down next to me, his cloak catching on the rough bark. "Want to know who's willing to fuck you?"

I blinked, eyes shifting to Pan. I lowered my voice. "No."

He ignored me. "You've got about five candidates. (Six if we can get Nibs to come out.) Oddly high for a group this size - five gay boys is over the typical number - but I suppose it makes sense that they'd feel unloved." He blanched, sensing his faux pas. "Y'know... society.."

I growled.

"Anyway, there's that one over there-"

Having quite enough, I gave him a nosebleed in attempt to put a stop to the conversation.

He frowned through the blood cascading from his nose. "Excuse me for trying to help you get off."

I paused, handing him a rag to catch the blood in. "Don't ever say that again."

"Agreed."

He shuddered, and just like brothers we were laughing then.

He might have underestimated my observational skills, but I did notice.

The issue was that out of the five, two were in the younger set, one was afraid of me, and one was simply uninteresting to an insulting degree. That left one and exclusivity made casual sex harder.

Besides, my dreams had gotten so frequent and possessing I wasn't even sure that I could get up without thinking of Pan's face anymore.

Either way, that wasn't important. The important part was that I did what Pan wanted me to. And so I trained them. Everyone from the oldest down to the boy of seven who could barely hold up a blade without tottering.

They used staves at first, just blunt cylinders to poke and prod with, and I taught them my simple technique. They'd almost immediately make it complex and artistic, causing a hot-and-cold reactions within the spars.

It didn't bother me that they deviated from my instruction so quickly; I was still doing as I was told.

And Pan seemed to reward me for it. Nothing obvious, no kind words or trophies. Just attention.

But, hell, that was worth everything wrapped up into one, wasn't it?

While the boys danced to music I couldn't hear, Pan would stand next to me, playing his flute and occasionally nudging my shoulder absently with his hip.

It numbed my mind, partially because of the contact and partially because I refused to think on the matter.

His actions towards me had changed since the group multiplied. Half the time it seemed charged with subtle innuendo that I didn't understand. Perhaps it was the fact that, because of the other boys, our time together was reduced. Perhaps I was just that starved for attention, to feel special or important.

Part of me thought I was simply reading too deep into our interactions.

If it were anybody else, his teasing would have made me angry. But with Pan? Well, his attention is valuable no matter what the motivation.

No, with Pan, it was simply a little frustrating.

But he didn't say anything about it, and so I wouldn't either.


	11. What does Peter Pan have to Fear?

**Part 2  
**

**Chapter 11**

_What does Peter Pan Have to Fear? _

* * *

Even though I didn't want them to, I will admit the boys grew on me.

It was familiarity if nothing else. I had a sort of unquenchable desire for normality. For predictability. As such, it was comforting to know that I'd wake up and see the boys who had been previously crying their eyes out completely reverted to a playful state. With the sunlight came comfort, so I noticed.

They were nearly always groggy in the morning, wiping sleep from their tear-stained eyes and grumpily threatening to skewer anyone who dared touch their breakfast.

The ironic part of the half-asleep threats was that no one was particularly interested in stealing or playing any games with anyone before they'd had almost an hour to sit and wake up.

No one except for Pan and myself.

He'd wait patiently for the boys to awaken, pulling away from the group to have a seat with me. He'd lay opposite me in my hammock so that we were facing each other, his feet reaching midway up my thigh.

There was a casual air to it that stopped the boys from staring, but there was a level of intimacy in those moments I didn't expect.

Little things like that kept me hooked on him. It was the little things that made the thought of life without him so horrible.

I recall thinking one morning while we waited for the boys to reach full mental capacity and physical capability that in those morning hours, Pan seemed human.

"What do you think's the worst part about getting your shadow ripped off?"

Human though he seemed; he was still Pan.

I raised my eyes, a slab of meat still between my teeth. Swallowing slowly, I tried to evaluate him. "Uh, sorry, what?"

"The worst part about getting your shadow ripped off. What do you think?"

He waited patiently for me to answer. I knew there was a right way to respond and a wrong way to respond, that he didn't actually care about my opinion.

So, I thought about it for a minute.

I considered the pain of Pan's shadow going through your body. It was a strong being, I knew that much from past experience. I was unsure if, when it passed through you if it felt icy, like a ghost, or if it burned like hellfire.

I assumed the latter was a more realistic thought.

I imagined that, when it cut through you, it would be harsh and rapacious. A jolt to the body that snuffs out all light.

You'd be dead before it left you, so that hellfire would be the last thing you ever felt.

Perhaps it was the actual ripping of the shadow.

It looked from afar as though the shadow simply grabbed on and tugged. As though your shadow, your soul, the very essence of your being was nothing more than an ill-fitting coat.

There had to be some ripping involved. Some cut, some tearing, some laceration. Maybe it was like someone carved into your chest through the skin, through the ribs, and removed your heart.

Though I can't imagine what that would feel like.

I took the latter thought for gospel and relayed it to Pan.

He laughed once, a quick amused chortle, before sobering. "Pretty thought."

"Am I right?"

"No." He smirked. "The worst part is that moment of realization. That split second they see my shadow coming for them. They know they're done for. They see their death in front of them and are powerless to stop it."

It wasn't a sonnet, but I'll admit there was an air of verse to his words.

"Fear," He elaborated. "That's the most powerful thing – it can drive any action."

I nodded patiently, noticing the boys were starting to become verbal amongst each other.

Pan continued: "And I need to use it to my advantage."

It was as though a match just lit in his eyes. As though smoke and flame withered away all leaves and decaying matter in the underbrush of his mind.

"That's it."

"What is?" I asked, leaning forward in the hammock, causing it to sway.

"_Fear_," He repeated, sitting up to match me, his voice dropping lower. Our faces inches from each other, both terrifying and elating. "It's so easy to make somebody afraid of something, isn't it?"

"I suppose so."

His eyes flashed and I recoiled a bit on impulse.

"See?" He all but purred.

I told him that, yes he was right.

"The question now is how to access it." Pan mused, turning to look at the sleep-sodden crew of boys with a critical eye. "Manipulate it."

His tongue slipped out from between his lips in thought. Just a quick moment, the little pink shape darting out at the corner of his mouth, shiny from saliva.

I detracted any thoughts of it sliding down my stomach before they came.

"They love something," He said, narrowing his eyes. "Love it enough to do anything to keep it. Drive them beyond natural capacity. It's such an easily manipulated weakness."

I could believe that, though perhaps my _'something'_ was a bit different than the rest of the boys.

"Neverland." Pan straightened his spine. "That's it."

If I were the argumentative type I might have pointed out how many of their eyes were still red from sobbing the night before. Instead I asked questions, "You're going to make them fear for Neverland?"

_Why? _

He nodded, voice dropping again so only I could hear.

"Not without reason, but perhaps a bit disproportionate."

"What do they really need to fear?" I asked, noticing how he wasn't swollen from sleep in the least.

He frowned, "Oh, the same things they always have, I'd wager."

Perhaps it was because of our proximity, but I almost had a half-second of clarity.

"It's you." I breathed incredulously, hardly believing my own eyes. "What does Peter Pan have to fear?"

His eyes flashed again.

"_Nothing." _He snapped, lurching for my shin, digging through the skin with the bite of a razor . "I just have to play by the rules is all."

I winced as the talons sunk into my leg. Something warm shot through me with the pain, a kind of excitement, a pins-and-needles sensation.

Pan's brows shot upwards as his jaw fell open.

He exhaled curiously, and there was his tongue again peeking out while his thoughts took him away.

His hand relaxed, nails surfaced from where they'd cut the sleeves over my legs.

I froze.

Then the nails dug in again, harder, farther up my thigh.

I may or may not have let out a small sound, a tiny gurgle in the back of my throat.

He squinted at me. "You...you _like _it."

My ears grew hot and I struggled to swallow. "Is that so strange?"

He released his hand, returning to lying back on the hammock. I didn't want him to go so far away, but it wasn't my place to ask him to stay. His arms were crossed over his chest but his eyes bored into me, combing through my mind, my memories, every thought I ever had.

"No. I'm just wondering why I haven't noticed." He said slowly, mulling it over. "What else do you like?"

After so many years he knew me quite well. It was more than excusable that he'd not know my preferences for pain. Whenever I was hurt in a spar it was in a game; as such it made more than enough sense for anyone to have a glint in their eye.

This situation was sober, however, and I think it might have been off-putting.

"Hm," He grunted, still evaluating me. He met my eyes and we locked into our typical stalemate.

As usual, I didn't want to look down, but without choice, I did.

The boys were fully awake by that time, bumbling around camp with their sticks and lively chatter, buzzing in anticipation for the day's adventure.


	12. Tiger

**Part 2**

_**Chapter 12**_

Tiger

* * *

Despite the boys' crying at night and the adjustment in dynamics, Neverland itself seemed mostly static, even if the action around the island changed.

The Natives were hunting in the jungle again, and although I often pressed to pursue them for invading the land Pan took away from them. Each time I did so, however, he'd dismiss it and I be obligated to let the subject relax.

The tiger I'd occasionally see in the underbrush seemed to take an interest in our increase in number. She showed up much more often, hiding as usual, just out of eyeshot.

I didn't mind much; in fact I'd barely register it most of the time. I was used to her presence. To me, she was simply another part of Neverland planted under Pan's thumb.

Some of the others didn't understand that.

And somehow they were able to convince the rest of them into hunting the tiger down. I protested when they brought the idea up to Pan, but as I couldn't rightfully defend it, those protests fell on deaf ears.

I couldn't really explain why I wanted to keep the beast alive, except for that there was a familiarity there. That tiger was a silly reminder of the fifty years before everything got complicated.

Leaving the camp that day I was at the front of the hunting party, my club in hand. The company followed me with their spears and crossbows, keeping a good distance from me.

It was amusing how afraid they were. As though I were the wild beast they were too afraid to hunt without a chaperone.

I'm not sure why they disliked me, but it hardly mattered. If I were to guess, however, it would be because I was quieter and more severe than the rest of them. I was different.

Then there was also my position among the group. Pan didn't have a problem with a pyramid structure, and it was very clear to all that Rufio and I were a tier above the rest. The difference between me and him was that I wasn't nearly as easy to talk to.

And I didn't really mind. I didn't want their chatter to fill my brain. Words are best reserved for purpose, for informing. Mindless prattle was pointless, and if that's what I needed for them to accept me I wasn't interested.

Pan didn't mind that I didn't make any efforts to join the others on their level, and so I assumed it was all right. Perhaps it was even one of the reasons he chose me to be his right-hand boy - someone who wouldn't hold interest in anything lesser than him.

Of course, this made my interests very selective.

And if there was one thing I wasn't interested in, it was killing that tiger. Horrible of me to come up with the plan myself, but Pan did bid me to help them in this endeavor, so despite my personal preference to keep the animal alive, I did as he asked.

It was midday when we found the cave in which the creature lived, a few of us entered and the rest of the group waited outside.

Five minutes was all it took to find the tiger. She was sleeping pleasantly, bright purple and striped. She seemed harmless to me even though judging by the claws she could have ripped out any of our throats with one swing of her paw.

It it unsportsmanlike to kill a sleeping creature, and because even children know how to play fair, we positioned our weapons to face the tiger, and then they screamed to wake her up.

The big cat lurched up, springing onto padded paws and roared. One long feline note that scratched our eardrums like sandpaper and shook the walls of the cave.

Her orange eyes met mine, and for a minute, it was almost as though there was an understanding. I was face-to-face with my past, about to destroy it. It would never look at me in Pan's absence, after that moment, and that would be that.

Almost tragic, really.

I sighed, ready to give the boys the signal. "Run."

We dispersed, running out to the mouth of the cave at breakneck speed. The tiger snarled, low and dangerous, chasing after us.

Just according to plan.

A foolish plan that required outrunning a wild animal.

With one more horrible roar, I ate dust. The great body twice my size came over me. Pain wracked through my body as I took claws to the face, crying out as I felt blood gush out just under my eye.

I stared at the sharp teeth as they came closer to my face.

They say that before you die your life flashes before your eyes. I saw the likeness of Pan standing in its place. Close enough.

The spell was broken a second later, as an arrow flew through the air, getting the beast in the shoulder. She rocked back, giving me enough time to get away, running after the boys who reached the mouth of the cave.

I breached the opening of the cave, tasting blood and seeing red.

"Now!"

I just barely made it out of the way as the boys who had stayed outside the cave launched a weighted net onto the creature. She jumped at us, but was restricted within the confines of the rope. The arrows and spears launched then, digging into the purple fur and tough hide, red blood bubbling up like a geyser as the stones broke the skin.

My mouth filled with blood from my face, the air stung and made me wince as I watched.

With a final roar that rang through the treetops, the tiger stopped moving.

I felt sad then, for some inexplicable reason, as I felt something slip, some reality that ceased to be.

Of course, this was all sentimental and silly. It was a tiger, a beast; not an indicator of anything important.

We arrived to camp again shortly after the tiger died; we had cut the creature into pieces and a few of the newer boys carried the bloody flesh in armfuls back to our settlement. Others carried its pelt proudly, and still others had its paws and tails in tow as trophies.

The camp was empty, the boys who hadn't come with us must have been working or playing somewhere else.

I barked at the boys to dress and take care of the carcass, to cook it for supper.

In the meantime, I found a dirty mirror one of the boys had with them when the shadow retired them from their world.

It was almost laughable, the entire right half of my face was covered in blood and stray purple hair. A vein had burst in my eye, adding to the total redness of my face. The other eye had swollen shut.

Using an old rag and a bucket of clean water, I wiped off the blood from my face, only to find it replaced instantly. From what I could tell from the split second, the tiger had dug deep, causing mountains and valleys to appear over my face.

Well, I supposed it could have been worse. The cat could've gone for my throat.

I used rags to create a bandage that immediately soaked in the blood. It was an ugly sight, but at least the pressure would eventually stop the bleeding.

As I did all this, the boys stuck the different chunks of tiger over the fire and made it burn hot.

I hadn't eaten tiger before that day, but I can't say the scent was unappealing.

"Go on and get him, will you Felix?" One of the boys asked after a while, turning over the tiger on the rotisserie. "It's almost ready."

I rolled my good eye, seeing the blood in my peripheral. "He's likely at his Thinking Tree, and he doesn't like to be disturbed."

"Well he doesn't like it when we eat before him either," The boy whined. "And we're just so hungry."

"He won't mind if it's you," Another put in.

"I'm starving!"

"Look you can see m'ribs!"

"I don't think I've never eaten nothin' before!"

And then just like that I was surrounded by the sweaty, dirty, raggedy boys bidding I go and fetch Pan. I sincerely doubted that I could "fetch him" even if I wanted to, but if for no other reason than to escape the flood.

I walked through the jungle without much purpose, my head pounding and my face throbbed and burned. It slowed my pace even more than it was already. Not that I minded; I was not terribly keen on returning to camp to their obnoxious and shrill voices and the last thing I wanted to do was disrupt Pan.

That is, until I cleared the branches that led me to the Thinking Tree.

I had to press my own hand over my mouth to stop from yelling.

Pan was there, yes, but he wasn't alone.

The tree obstructed my view, but it's impossible to mistake the heavy breathing, the erratic motions of the hip as it thrusts and waves upwards and inwards.

I struggled to stay my breathing and lurching stomach. My face hurt even more as my eye adjusted to the scene. I couldn't tear my eye away from the way perspiration collecting on his face as it jounced in and out of my sight. The way a hand coiled around the bark, nails digging into it as he built his way up.

His trousers were open just enough so he could escape, and I was able to make out the base of his cock as he slid outwards, still half buried.

He sounded as though he were far away, and yet at the same time as though he was moaning and grunting into my ears. There was an intensity to his guttural I'd never heard before. My brain struggled to commit it to memory but found that the attempt simply made everything phase out.

I must have moved, must have made a sound, because Pan looked away from the person hidden in the tree and out towards me. I fell to the ground, feeling foolish to try to hide.

Peering up from the grass, I looked at him before he turned back to the tree. There was an potency to his eyes, a high within them, and an extra flash to it that was all but foreign to me before then.

I don't think I ever saw something so thrilling before. Anything so completely dominating and in control.

Of course, the thrill had to die as I looked up again. Having fell to the ground I was in a different position and therefore the entire scene was much clearer.

He had Tiger Lily pressed up against the rough bark of the tree, her hands held high above her head by vines that squeezed so tight her hands were a pale blue that I didn't think possible with her complexion.

The female form is a disgusting thing, especially when splayed between Pan and a tree.

She looked pained, held up against the tree like that, her face contorted into a permanent cringe that indicated she was receiving very few favors from the exchange.

_Good_.

But still, his tongue broke through her teeth, sliding in and out. His hips kept up a similar pattern as they slammed into hers, shaking the tree with them.

She rocked into it too much for the pain to be as bad as the look on her face indicated. Maybe, I thought, that's just what women look like when they...

My throat was dry, and I shook slightly on the forest floor. When I expressed interest in knowing what he looked like building up to an orgasm I didn't mean I wanted to find out like that.

"So can I?" He panted, his voice shaking with the movement.

She hissed; her voice was heavy. "If you really want."

I really wanted to vomit.

The tree let her go, and for a moment I thought I'd have respite.

The actuality was that it just got worse as Pan spun her around, driving her stomach and breasts into the bark of the tree. The vines wrapped around her again, coiling her whole body so it sunk in. She cried out in a pitch that was too high and Pan laughed deep in his throat as he grabbed her skirt and forced it upwards.

He took her then with no precaution, lining himself up and plunging forward in five seconds flat, rubbing against her back and hissing into her ear as the tears started to roll down her face.

I winced, almost praying that he at least had magic for lubrication and stretching.

And then I remembered exactly what I was watching.

My stomach constricted, and I broke out in goosebumps as my face pounded even more. My mind hazed and everything blurred.

He let out a mind-numbing sound, a low warble that was more sedating than even the most powerful drug.

I shattered, all but literally feeling the shards of my heart piercing through my lungs and into my ribs.

Scrambling on the ground, I'm sure I made noise as I dashed to my feet and ran away from the scene. I ran down a ravine, sliding slightly, dizziness from the lack of blood taking over, and finding I had to resort to walking. Attempting to calm myself, I tried to expel the memory, exhaling deeply and trying to ignore the horrible feeling building in my stomach.

I grinded my teeth together so hard I'm surprised they didn't break then.

I was humiliated. I'd walked into that scene and I stayed. I was unimportant to him in that moment, and although it made sense in my head that I couldn't occupy his mind as much as he occupied mine, there was a horrible feeling, burning like bile in my esophagus.

But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that I wanted to go back and be humiliated some more.

Things had never seemed so duplicitous before.

I can't remember ever feeling so horrid, but not in the way you might think. I wasn't sad, and I didn't feel betrayed. I was angry. Angry I had to walk into the scene. Angry I half wanted to go back. Angry with the boys for asking me to go in the first place.

I wasn't aware of Pan and Tiger Lily before that point, but the knowledge did act as the final puzzle piece and everything seemed to make sense. All the little comments. How she was always the one to translate. All the times he'd disappear to "say hello to a friend," as he called it. What it was exactly she had agreed to do before the boys came to Neverland.

It was disturbing to think of Pan undone like that. Especially since he'd been so far away.

Despite my anger, despite the hole in my chest where my heart should have been, I still wanted to know what it looked and felt like up close.


	13. Exercise in Restraint

**Part 2**

_**Chapter 13**_

_Exercise in Restraint_

* * *

Arriving back to camp, the boys pounced, demanding to know where Pan was and when we could eat.

I pushed the closest boy down, and inadvertently into the fire. His cloak went up in flame, and the other boys took the defensive and started to pound on the fabric to put it out.

I couldn't be bothered to see if I hurt him, simply sitting on my log and stared into the fire, ignoring the hum of the boys whispering behind my back. It didn't matter.

The thing that mattered was settling into the realization that I'd have the shards of my heart embedding into my ribs for the rest of my life. I had to wrap my mind around it before Pan came back.

I refused to risk him. It was such a horrible feeling, all the anger and frustration filling me from the crown of my head and through my toes, but I knew I'd have to eventually swallow it.

It was a few hours, several pieces of the tiger had burnt and a small group of the boys had left in attempt to smoke the meat for a longer-lasting meal, before Rufio dared to speak with me, sitting across from me on the adjacent log.

"You saw him, didn't you?" He asked quietly. "Him and Tiger Lily?"

My head sprang up, the heat of anger building up again. "You knew?"

He nodded, grimacing.

"He told you but not me?" I was incredulous, air folding out of my punctured lungs, feeling worse than before. It was as though, all of a sudden, I was weightless in his life. As though he didn't trust me. The thought was worse than the image of him cumming against a tree because of some girl who dared pretend to matter.

"You know you aren't the _only _person he ever talks to."

I slouched grumpily.

Rufio continued to talk, despite my obvious dismissals. "I figured he knew you'd have a problem with it since - you know - you want him."

"I'm not that transparent."

"Are you serious? Why don't you just put up a sign that declares just how hard you're on the pull? That's the only way you could be more obvious."

I rolled my eyes, staring up at the sky. Of course Pan knew. I knew he knew. The confirmation, however, was a bit hard to stomach.

"Rufio, if you can't tell I'm not in the mood." I grumbled, more words than customary flowing out of my mouth. "Besides, must you be so crass?"

"Yes," He said with a small shrug and no hesitation. "Now back to my point."

"Which is?"

"You know there's a negative chance of him ever shagging you, right? _Ever." _He was trying to be delicate, surprisingly enough. "I mean, it's obvious enough he fancies girls. That's partly why I was pushing you before. Thought it'd be easier for you to have a distraction when it all eventually came to blow."

"Thanks for your input," I spat, tone suggesting we close the conversation.

"I think I can get Nibs to-"

"_No._"

He paused, seemingly concerned. "What are you going to do now?"

I blinked. "The same thing I've always done. Nothing's changed between Pan and me."

"No. _Everything_ has."

I shook my head. He didn't really understand true unconditional loyalty. The truth is, I wasn't so sure I did either.

He pursed his lips and then made an excuse to slip away. No sooner had he left than a voice sounded behind me.

"Glad to see you're so adamant about me."

I turned to Pan, tight in my stomach and grimacing for whatever was about to follow. What sort of put-down or degradation was in store for me, I thought bitterly of the options.

That feeling instantly quelled, however, when he gave me a funny little smile. "What brought that on?"

I finally allowed myself to breathe, foolishly assuming he hadn't seen me by the Thinking Tree. "Nothing."

"What happened to your face?" He gestured to the soaked-through bandage.

"Tiger nicked me."

"Take it off," He commanded and I didn't question it.

A warm hand grazed over my face, and I was surprised to find the stinging stopped, and the caked on blood no longer itched in the wetness of fresh blood. Actually, it felt rather dry and my closed up eye opened, the red from the burst vein disappearing.

"There you go." He said, "Good as new."

I stared wide-eyed as Pan stood with his arms crossed on his chest, lowering a brow and smiling down at me before turning around abruptly to proclaim to the rest of the boys that it was time to eat.

I couldn't eat that night; the events of the day made it quite hard to swallow.

Instead I mulled the aforementioned events over, allowing the humiliation to come to climax in my head. As the falling action began, I was able to think of the aftermath, and its implications.

Thanks to Pan, the only remnant of the tiger attack I had was the memory. He'd healed my wounds easily enough.

Of course, I was extremely grateful to Pan. Without his magic I would have been marred, maimed, utterly unrecognizable.

Somehow I knew it was a favor he wouldn't repeat.

While thinking about the tiger, I remembered its claws. How sharp and potent they'd felt for that instant they pierced my face. And with these thoughts came an idea.

Finding the remains of the creature, I tested out the claws on the back of my hand. I held back a wince as the skin broke apart, a wave of dull pain shooting through my hand and fingertips. They certainly were razor-sharp and thin, unlike any creature I'd seen before.

Instead I used my dagger to remove the claws from the paws some of the boys kept as trophies. I knew it was disrespectful to their quarry, but I also knew they feared me too much to bother me about it.

Putting the razor sharp claws into a small bag, I hid it away in the folds of my hammock, resolving to barb my club or create a spear with it later.

I would have done it then, but there were more pressing things to do.

That pressing thing, as it turned out much to my dismay, was to go swimming with the boys.

As long as we had business to take care of, some kind of activity, I could distract myself. Try to ignore that heartbreak isn't just something one simply resolves in hours.

But when the activity was something as pointless as swimming? Well, I can't say it was the best distraction possible.

Even though Neverland was warm all year round, summer was particularly unbearable. I wasn't sure why Pan liked to keep it so hot, but there was no need to question it, as the water as almost always cool.

They all stripped down to bare minimum (typically cut off trousers that were too worn to run or fight in) in those hot summer days and we'd swing in on vines, making a splash and showering our company with the sparkling waves.

Of course, when I say "we" it implies I was included.

Obviously, I wasn't. Uninvited to join them, they'd occasionally glance in my direction but soon lost interest in me, turning back to their games.

I was fine with it, I didn't want to waste my energy on pointless splashing.

So instead I sat on the bank fully clothed.

I could deal with the heat as I would sit, dipping my feet in up to my shins, pensively watching.

It was interesting, watching the whole group splash around, playing Mercy with each other by holding their heads underwater, sitting on each other's shoulders and trying to force the an opponent to fall back and under.

It was as though we were just ordinary boys, as though we hadn't just violently murdered the group of water nymphs who lived in the pool before that point.

There was nothing to be helped with that, though. Pan had told all creatures to evacuate the pool for our use; the mermaids would have left without question had the pool been saltwater. The nymphs just didn't listen.

And bad things happen when you don't listen to Pan.

So we disposed of the disloyal creatures and proceeded to celebrate in the cold and relieving pool, with me sitting back like a gargoyle and watching their fun.

My eyes found Pan, racing with a long limbed boy, and somehow managing to stay ahead with easy bulletlike breast strokes.

If Rufio were to be believed, and Pan knew every detail of my introspective monologue concerning him, I would have been free to stare openly. Pride and the desire for composure, however, made me aim for stealth.

Pan was (and is) hard to ignore. At all times really, but especially when he looked so lighthearted, breaking through the surface. His hair was darkened in the water as it clung to his face and dripped off his chin. He'd burst upwards the water shimmering like jewels around him as the droplets slid down the outline of his muscles.

He wasn't being himself then and I knew it. He was acting for the benefit of our friends. He was too happy, too lighthearted, too young. A sinister air to him was missing, the schemes were buried deeply within him. He was a boy then, plain and simple.

There was something in that that was unnerving. So much of who I was depended on Pan. When he hid himself, I felt closed off, cooped up; locked away.

I much preferred it when he let his true nature show through. But for that moment in the pool, he wasn't Peter Pan.

The thing that shocked me about him, though, was that when he acted like this, his appeal didn't diminish, though it did shift.

This person Pan pretended to be for the uninitiated, whoever he was, was very different than the boy I'd known all my life. He was different than the boy I saw pin Tiger Lily against his Thinking Tree.

This person was the sort of boy I used to look for in pubs, the sort of was only looking for a fun time, who'd be more than willing for a tall boy to whisk him into a dark back room and pound into him.

That wasn't Peter Pan at all.

The contrast stuck to my brain, bringing back memories of what he was really like, back when it was just him and me and he had nothing to hide.

The time he helped me set the orphanage on fire followed by the memory of the cold dissonance in his face when he pulled the mermaid's shadow away and the unintentionally seductive smirk on his face when he pressed a blade to my throat afterwards. All the times he'd sparred with me and left bruises and cuts with a look of sick satisfaction smacked across his face. The look of hatred in his face when he told me of his son. The heat I felt when he choked me as way of giving me my scarf as a gift.

Even though I preferred not to think about it, his twisted face in the heat of an orgasm materialized behind my eyes, and with it the anger and confusion that accompanied the day I saw it.

He swam over to me on that hot day, causing my thoughts to evaporate.

"Do you know you've got the Look?" He asked me, a funny little line between his brows, pulling himself onto the shore to sit beside me, water dripping down his body in a tantalizing way.

"What look?" I asked evenly, looking away from him in favor of watching the water at our feet ripple outwards.

"That one," He said, unplugging waterlogged ears. "Something's wrong."

I shrugged, unwilling to admit the specifics of what was on my mind. "Didn't know nymphs bled."

"You're lying," He said matter of factly, leaning back onto his elbows.

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, trying to disguise my eyes' pathway as they skimmed up his body, around the leg sleeves that clung to his thigh and the bulge between them, the remaining droplets that slid down his provocative contours.

"Why would I lie to you?" I asked once my vocal chords were willing to vibrate again.

He smiled, but it was unlike the one he brandished in the water, this one was knowing, bragging, conniving. This was Pan.

"That certainly is a question, isn't it?" He said, looking up to me.

He held my gaze for a few moments, before turning back to the water, he nodded towards the splashing chaos in the pool.

"You don't dance with them," He observed after a beat. "You don't play with them. You don't run or even talk with them far as I can tell. Why is that? Feel like you're better than them?"

"Why would I-"

"You do." He said with a tone of finality.

I paused. He was right. I was quite convinced I had the upper hand from them, and I had my reasons. However, I couldn't help but ask. "Am I?"

"That certainly is a question, isn't it?" He repeated himself, a satisfied smirk on his face.

I opened my mouth to reply, but just then the ground began to shake. Heads bobbed in the water, falling downwards and not coming back up as quickly as desired. Screams escaped, taken aback by the sudden tremors.

I almost fell into the pool myself, and if I hadn't grasp the high grass around me I probably would have. The trees shook, a few fell down, and from the sky a whole flock of birds took flight.

And then, it was completely silent. Even the waterfall in the back of the pool seemed silent and the water no longer rippled.

Pan looked to the trees, his brows furrowed and a worried little frown on his face.

"Shit." He muttered, standing up and still squinting at the sky. "Too soon."

The rest of the boys swam towards us, looking beseechingly to Pan.

We waited for a sign from him, a little information, but nothing happened for a few minutes. The ground seemed volatile although it was quite stationary.

Their gazes shifted from Pan, who apparently wasn't offering explanation, to me. I couldn't look them in the eye.

After a few minutes, Pan spoke again.

"Felix," He said, calling over his shoulder to me, "Our hydra's hatched."

The group erupted with noise, terrified screeches, burning questions. The sudden din made it impossible to think. From the back of the group of boys, I heard Rufio's call above the rest of the sudden chatter.

"Your _what_?"


	14. The Calm Before the Storm

**Part 2**

_**Chapter 14**_

_The Calm Before the Storm_

* * *

I didn't have any better idea of what Pan was talking about than the rest of them, but I kept my mouth shut as we all shuffled away from the pool and circled around him for the desired exposition.

This hydra, apparently, was the reason he killed the mermaid all those years ago. Pan spun the tale with his golden eloquence, telling about how the mermaids had a difficult time adjusting to his presence in Neverland.

He told us how they refused to accept that he was one with the land, how he had the final say and control in the land. "A few of them," He elaborated. "Conspired to destroy me."

The tale continued, related a few failed attempts, a few siren songs sung that didn't affect him in the slightest. The time they tried to come onto land during the full moon and trick him into following them into the sea. It always ended in disaster for them of course.

They felt as though they deserved Neverland. It was all shit of course, they had every realm to live and wander in. There was no reason for them to vie for control of Pan's land. Yet, perhaps because he denied them the pleasure, it was as though they had a vendetta against him.

But then they tried something a little less direct. Taking a hydra egg from another realm, they placed it beneath the island and waited the seventy-some years for it, pretending to keep the peace.

He swallowed hard when he reached that point in the story. Laying it on a bit thick, I thought, but even with my knowledge I couldn't help but be moved by his story. "And now baby's hatched."

"What do we do?" I asked immediately putting my hand on my club.

"Back to camp," He said. "We'll get weapons and make our preparations. Get the others."

We all turned to follow him, as he called over his shoulder, with his signature sense of excitement and adventure, "We're going to war, boys!"

I followed Pan a half a pace behind, as usual, until there was a hand at my shoulder. Rufio spun me around, a small fire in his eyes.

"A _hydra_? What is this bullshit?"

"It's a creature that-"

"No." He seethed. "I know what a bloody hydra is. I mean _you, _you bastard. Why didn't you tell me?"

I didn't think he'd believe me if I said that I didn't know. So I stayed silent as the rest of the boys filed by us to keep a closer pace to Pan.

"Why didn't _he _tell me?"

I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw something pass over him. Something odd and seemingly out of character. Some sort of helplessness that he tried to hide. He looked frightened. As though something had very dangerously swung out of balance, and as though he was afraid he could never bring it back.

I shook my head. "We've got to go. We're falling behind."

With that I brushed past him.

It's one of my bigger regrets.

I arrived back at the camp shortly after the company did, with everyone buzzing around, gathering spears and clubs and knives and arrows. There seemed to be an organized chaos to it, I noticed after my eyes adjusted. A few were gathering the weapons, a few were busily set sharpening them, and a few were gathering hides from the bedrolls - likely trying to make armor or something of a similar nature.

Pan was in the middle of a semi-circle and upon noticing me he waved me over with a tick of the head.

He had a plan of course. The only trick was keeping up with it.

The first step, logically, he said was finding the creature. It was obviously big, as evidence from the earthquake. He guessed it was under the island, maybe it had a nest there.

"But if it's aquatic," One of the older set said tentatively, "How are we gonna get to it?"

Another boy shook his head. "It's gotta come up sometime."

"Okay. Great." A third spoke up. "What the hell is a hydra?"

It was somewhat humorous that is was so easy to forget we all came from different realms.

He received a painstakingly detailed definition and description.

Its serpentine body, so a storytelling boy relayed, was so strong it could likely crush the whole island in one fell swoop. Its spines oozed poison and its talons could pierce through sheets upon sheets of metal. All of its slimy scales that reflect the whites of your eyes when you look into them were explained individually, the angles hard enough to slit your throat. Each of its heads was described in detail, as well as what happens when one is sliced off and the extra two, even more grotesque than the first, grow back in its place. The teeth that were covered in slime and shone yellow, and the bigger, immortal middle head that could breathe poison so potent you'd die on contact.

I couldn't help but imagine the thing as its image was spun. Green like mucus, as it slithered around in my mind, each of its nine heads looking in different directions so you couldn't sneak up on it. In my mind's eye it coiled and slithered, disproportionately small as I imagined it started coiling around my ankle.

I could all put feel its acid leak onto my skin, and still in the recesses of my imagination I felt the fabric over my sleeves disintegrate horribly, and the welts beginning to appear on my skin. The small hydra continued its spiral up my leg, destroying the fabric and my skin underneath it as it went.

It went to my middle and started to squeeze. Even though I knew it was all in my imagination - and I didn't really believe it was happening - I could feel it constrict my lungs and stomach. In all honesty, I nearly spluttered then.

It grew at such a rapid pace, until it took up the whole campsite, crushing all the boys around me. It squeezed until I thought I'd break apart. The last thing I saw was the inside of a serpentine head.

I came back to reality with a small lurch I hoped nobody noticed.

My stomach still hurt; that was the issue with Neverland. Things from your imagination, even when you didn't actually believe it, sometimes leaked into real life.

"And its blood better not spray on you," The boy ended his description. "'Cause it's pure venom. It'll rot your flesh out like acid."

Pan quirked his eyebrows at the descriptions, but let the boy finish.

The original boy who didn't know what a hydra was turned white as a sheet. "How-how are we gonna kill it, then?"

"We're not." Pan said with a little smirk. "We're going to control it."

A flag came up in my brain, and I pressed forward so that I was blocking the rest of the group. "You can't tame hydras."

"Can't I?" He cocked a brow. "Peter Pan never fails."

And that was that.

"All right," I conceded. "How do we subdue it?"

Pan's plan was elegant, elaborate, and full of things that could only happen through happenstance. Of course, happenstance with him wasn't really happenstance.

All in all, his plan was so very much like him it would have been impossible for anyone else to think of it. I think I understood the majority, at least better than a few of the other boys who blinked stupidly amongst each other.

I sat about shortly after the plan was set, digging through my hammock and taking the claws from the tiger to add to my club. Using my dagger to add little notches to the wood, I carefully secured the claws within until they wouldn't budge and my fingers were sliced open from the pressure.

I was still working on it when Pan came and sat beside me on the ground.

"Forget everything I told you about formation," He told me quietly so as not to attract attention. "Stand in the back with me."

I nodded instantly. "Of course."

We sat for a moment, I shuffled with my club, fitting another claw into the wood, waiting patiently for elaboration.

"This _will_ get bloody. And I can see it playing out step by step." He sighed. "But in case something goes wrong, in case something..._unexpected_ happens. I need another way out of this."

I furrowed my brows. "And that's me?"

He nodded.

"What do I need to do?" I asked, feeling anxious at the prospect of Pan being in danger.

He smirked at me, "Hang back and use your head."

I wasn't sure what he meant, but any more pressing on the matter only raised my worries.

There was a lack of seriousness amongst the boys, as though they did not understand that we were about to battle an enormous monster. A creature that wouldn't hesitate to take a life, a creature that wouldn't be so easy to knock off as the tiger.

Inexperienced with real battle, it was fair to say I was a bit of a wreck, at least inwardly. I'd never actually seen a hydra, but I definitely knew of them, and the previous description didn't subdue any nerves whatsoever.

On the other hand, I knew fights quite well. I knew I thrived on adrenaline and force and pain. In that, I knew I'd be successful and I didn't have to question whether or not Pan would be.

But I knew my primary derivative would be to make sure Pan didn't get in over his head.

He didn't need me, I knew that, but I still felt the need to know at all times that he was still breathing.

The island would fall apart if he wasn't, I was sure I'd know, but if I could sense it ahead of time. If I could jump in the creature's breath and get in the way, it'd be worth it.

Once the plan was decided and the knives were sharper than death, we strapped on as many layers as we could. Our hoods were pulled over our brows, some secured scarves about their noses, some applied gloves and swung their belts over their shoulders for an easier access to their holster. Pan led us through the jungle as we marched to the off-beat of a few of the younger boys' walking sticks.

Part of me was unnerved by their participation. We were about to battle a monster, and exactly off my right there was a boy no older than eight. But Pan had decided it wasn't too much, and nobody, especially not me, questioned his judgement.

He led us to the same precipice I stood my first night in Neverland, stopping abruptly in the fringe of the brush. The sun was setting, bloody and red. Only fitting, I thought, for a battle. The dusky air teased us, biting at any exposed skin. I bit back shivers from nervousness.

Pan stepped in front of us all, his back to the sea, and addressed the company.

"Today," He said, projecting well over the large group. "All of your training and practice will pay off. We have a goal, and a battle to win. Defeat is not an option - with you all fighting by my side, Neverland is in safe hands. If this hydra thinks he can fuck with us, then let him take one look at us with each head and watch him wither at the sight of Peter Pan's boys!"

It was a rousing speech, a few of the boys lifted their spears above their heads and pumped them to the sky with cheers. Pan grinned broadly, a spark in his eye that was so very familiar to getting his way.

The cries died down and he continued with his speech.

"We go against a beast who's pitted against me - against_ Neverland_. We aim to protect our home, make it a place to live forever. And no hydra brought to this land by a girl will ever take that away from us!"

The boys continued to cheer, some of them clanked their sticks together. I found Rufio by my side. He and I alone were sober, exchanging anxious looks quickly before Pan continued his speech.

"Fight well; remember your training. Keep your belief. This is the first battle we will face - and we will face it well. This is more than a game - this is a tournament!"

The company let out a deafening roar, and even I shed my composure for a beat to lift my club into the air.

The archers stepped forward into a crescent formation, followed by the spear-holders, creating a phalanx from wooden shields. Pan, his shadow, and I were in the back, overseeing it, watching the scene unfold.

The front row drew back their bows, waiting for the order from Rufio to let go.

I turned to Pan. "Sure this will work?"

"Have some faith." He grinned at me. "Peter Pan never fails."

It wasn't him I was worried about.

He opened his palm, a mass of silver light building between his fingers. He waited until the light became bulbous and bright in the dimming sun. His fingers retracted, and in that moment I swear I almost saw claws on him.

With a gesture upwards the light flew up into the air and broke with a heavy crack. I had to cover my ears from the shock of it. It disintegrated in a rain of stardust, catching onto the archer's arrows, causing the shafts to erupt into metallic flame.

There was a pause, Rufio cried "_Fire!" _and the arrows flew through the air. They crested high in the air, silver fire catching in the red sun, and then one by one, the arrows disappeared into the blackening sea.

I waited a moment as the archers fitted new arrows onto their bows a second time, pulling back and holding still.

The hydra didn't wait for anxiety to set in, for with a shake to the earth beneath us, the enormous creature breached the surface, looming over us, eclipsing all light.


	15. Hydra

**Part 2**

_**Chapter 15**_

_Hydra_

* * *

No stories or legends could have prepared me for the creature coiling before us, meters away from the precipice.

The creature broke through the atmosphere, so tall in that I had to crane my head backwards to get full view of its tallest head. Nine grotesque heads stared down at us, long and angular like snakes with slit pupils and fiery red eyes.

It was dripping with water, gallons and gallons falling out and into the sea, threatening to cause a tsunami where it stood. It snarled, the pot in its neck glowing silver in retaliation to the arrows.

It growled and hissed at once, fangs dripping with water and a thicker substance I could only assume was its venom.

Its heads spread outwards, giving enough room to expand its skin around its neck. Extending its dewlaps to full capacity, dropping more water into the ocean. Its heads crested simultaneously, giving a dangerous point and maybe six feet more in height.

I dared to look at Pan. He would have seem unfazed if not for the fright hidden behind his restricted pupils.

How did he not know it would be that big?

How did he not have complete control?

Rufio yelled again and the arrows punctured the air. The phalanx ran forward on the precipice, lining up a protective shield about the arches as they yelled and jeered to the creature.

"C'mon! We're right here!"

"What kinda beast are you?"

"Hurry up!"

"We've not got all night!"

"You're just a baby! Lookit you're so small!"

"You call yourself a hydra?"

I wasn't sure the creature could hear the specifics, but it definitely wasn't the time to bring logic into the scenario. The first head dived for us, taking a chunk of the precipice as the boys fell back. There was a scream, and a few boys lost their equilibrium, falling into one the hydra's wide mouths or onto the jagged rocks beneath.

We didn't notice but the next two heads had come to another area of the cliff, taking a similar pattern, a few more boys fell off the rocks. Punctured by its breath, one boy writhed on the cold ground, blisters covering his face in seconds.

I heard a low rumble behind me and I turned, knife and club aloft. Three gigantic, ugly heads stared me down. The filmy lids blinked at me, trying to assess what was to happen, and then the necks started to glow.

With a wave of his arm, Pan sicked his shadow on one of them, it snapped at the smoky being, distracted by its pattern as it felt around coiling it around trees and deterring it from the group. Its neck wrapped around the bark, snapping the large tree trunk in half, but falling on the creature's neck, stilling it.

A head encircled me, preventing me from stepping too far from one direction to another. I swung my club, the razor-sharp claws from the tiger pierced through the scales enough to leave a mark but not enough to draw blood. Backing up into its neck, I felt for my dagger and promptly plunged it into its side.

The head cried, unleashing sulphurous breath over me. I tried to hit the ground before it could phase me, but I was left with watery eyes and a burning face. I could feel the welts rising on my back and I warped into a twisted contortion as the pain surged through me.

If I wasn't about to die, it would have been euphoric.

The head, perhaps thinking me dead backed away from me. I jumped, grabbing for my dagger, and slicing it down through the tough scales.

If for nothing else but brute strength the cut did its job, the creature recoiled in pain.

Of course, I'd forgotten basic hydra mythology. Its skin was back in tact and stronger than before in two seconds flat.

I'd resorted to throwing stones and swinging my club. Whenever it was close enough for my weapon of choice to do any damage however, I felt the sting and heat of its breath and had to run backwards. It was foolish, but I did manage to throw a particularly sharp rock into its eye, causing recoil.

On the precipice, the remaining boys had their spears out, throwing them into the creature's scales. A few embedded between them, causing the head to wince and recoil, but it was always momentary. No hit was good enough, no arrow was direct enough. And our numbers were decreasing.

Mortality had never been so apparent.

I focused in on the hydra's head in front of me, trusting that someone would have my back. Close combat was counter-intuitive of this creature, though, and I found deja vu was the order of the day as my clothes started to disintegrate in wake of its toxic breath.

Fighting a creature was different than fighting a person. My rock throwing phased it, but I couldn't see a way to improve the attack. My skin was burning, the cold night air hit it with some vehemence, and I almost wanted to buckle over.

In the dark, I scrambled back from the creature's hot breath only to find myself tripping over a root and staring face-to-face with slitted pupils on yellow.

I closed my eyes, wincing, ready to die.

But then Pan stepped in front of me, using his magic as a shield, providing sudden gallant light, and sending the monster in the opposite direction.

I should have thanked the gods for my deus ex machina, but all I could do was nod brief thanks to Pan and jump back to my feet.

When I did so, however, I turned to the company to find the hydra's back to us. It cried out a long scratchy sound and disappeared under the water, heads first, sloping under the sea in long elaborate slope.

We waited a moment, apprehensive and frightened.

When the hydra didn't resurface, there was the hint of inspirit, the taste of victory.

Pan's expression, however, told me it was far from over.

He dashed to the new jagged edge of the cliff and watched the serpentine body swim away like gossamer - an arrow in water. His eyes grew as the creature approached a strange island shaped like a skull.

In that moment, Pan looked panicked in a way I'd never seen before or since. Something flushed out of his face, his eyes darkened, and his entire body stiffened, clenching his teeth and fists. It was a look I was familiar with, only not on him. Mortal fear.

"_No._" He breathed.

With that, he disappeared.

In two seconds flat I was chasing after him, with the boys at my heels. We uncovered our canoes and barreled into them, tipping on the water.

A few of the boys stopped on the shore, staring at me as though I were insane.

I probably was.

"You wanna go on the water? With that monster out there?" One of the boys said incredulously.

I nodded. "For Pan."

"What makes you think Pan needs your help?"

The words came to my head immediately. _Stay close and use your head. _

"Come if you want; we need to hurry." And with that I turned around, bidding some of the stronger boys row as fast as possible, taking an oar in hand and almost tipping the vehicle in my vehemence.

It took too long to get to the little skull island. So long, in fact, that the hydra's long tail was spilling out of the rock's eye sockets, with one head from the other and more heads spilling out of every open craig on the skull, snarling, laughing, mocking.

"Is he in there?"

"What are we gonna do?"

The hydra snarled with its heads staring at us, unwavering from the group.

Six heads out. Three inside.

Coming up with a quick plan, I told the boys to separate into groups and make a racket, act as a diversion for each of the heads and eventually dash into the skull.

All hell broke loose. The remaining boys scattered, yelling profanities and shooting arrows through the air.

I gripped my club tightly, feeling it slide slightly in my wet hands, blisters on my wrists started to ache.

The hydra coiled in the air, lurching forward out of the eye, threatening with its breath.

I made a break for the skull's mouth. The serpentine tail swooped through the air at eye level. I ate dirt again but kept going.

Eventually I broke through into the cave, hunching in a small alcove just behind the entrance, my eyes adjusted momentarily. The hydra's scales shone in the dim light with its movement. The moon provided all light, snuffed out when the neck came in front of the eye socket.

It was just a body, coiled around the cave. It took up the entirety of the stairs, laid out elaborately around the skull, slithering and coiling without end.

A few of the boys soon joined me. Horror smacked across their faces, they swallowed soberly and nodded to me.

It was odd to be in charge, but I couldn't bother worrying about that at the time.

I held up my hand, gesturing them to fall in line. Then with a flick of the wrist I indicated they were to follow.

Balling up my fist, I swallowed slowly, praying I was making the right descision.

_Use your head. _

I couldn't worry about the hollow feeling in my stomach or the cold sweat, or the shaking in the deepest recesses of my brain.

I nodded to the group.

_One…_

The hydra was still dealing with a group of boys outside, it roared and I could hear its toxic exhale.

_Two…_

The boys were either shaking or my eyes lost all ability to focus.

_Three. _

We raced out from the hidden alcove, running up the stairs in a single file fashion, trying to dart the hydra's long body.

A boy tripped on its moving tail, face crashing into the steps, drenching the stairs in red.

The stairs were steep, made traitorous by the coiling snake and the water still expelling from his scales. We all stumbled, fell down entirely, skidding along the rocks.

It didn't matter, as long as I was able to get back to my feet.

The stairs opened up into the cranium of the skull. I stopped running abruptly, skidding on the slick rocks. My eyes adjusted and simultaneously stomach stopped.

"_Peter!" _

I was completely out of ideas.

He looked up at me from the ground, breathing heavily through a split lip and raw face. Spitting blood out of his mouth, he crawled back onto his hands and knees. He looked for a moment to the wall. An enormous hourglass, filling the room with yellow light, stood, filtering dust into the bottom half. The look on Pan's face when he glanced to it was frightening, but I didn't have much time to analyze.

The hydra shook the room and a little more dust fell into the bottom half.

Pan howled in anger and, perhaps, fear.

The hydra had grown four more heads, the decapitated remains of the ones before it laid on the ground, covered in sticky blood.

I rushed towards Pan, helping him to his feet at the same moment the hydra lurched for us, snapping its vile teeth.

The shadow came in the way between us and the creature, detracting it backwards, out of the eye socket as it snapped and tried to catch it in his mouth.

"Any ideas?" I whispered out of breath.

Pan spit out more blood. "Plenty."

Four other boys made their way into the room, drawing their arrows back and preparing to shoot.

The hydra's other heads looked at us maliciously. It cawed and encircled us with three of its heads. Arrows flew, whizzing by our heads. I swung my club into one eye, causing one of the heads to reel back.

Pan used his magic to try to keep them away. There were just too many of them.

One of the heads circled around wildly, as though its vertebrae were detached, clumsily smacking into the cave wall.

It hit very near the hourglass.

Pan panicked once more, jumping high into the air and whipping through, creating a jetsteam that forced the head back. From sheer force, the others had to retaliate in kind, smacking down out of the cave and onto the foliage of the island.

I stayed on Pan's tail as he ran out towards it, running out into the air, jumping onto hard rock beneath the skull. I heard my shin snap and the pain surged. But I followed, stumbling as I went.

There were a few boys still standing on the beach, but Pan took no notice of them, following the hydra. With a flexed hand, he lifted the creature on a black cloud of magic. His shadow appeared again a moment later, heading to the monster at breakneck speed.

Pan's shadow tried to go through the hydra, but couldn't get a good grip on the creature's essence. As it did, Pan let a blood-curdling gasp out, as though something were breaking him from inside out.

I'll never forgive myself for being so useless.

The rest of the heads reeled and snapped, using its superior length to reach the beach where we stood to bite and snap. Some boys didn't have time to jump in the other direction.

The shadow eventually pulled through, taking the largest cloud in existence, with it, grappling and resisting as it thrashed against Pan's shadow.

And then, it flew away from sight.

My vision faded out and the next thing I knew I hit the ground.


	16. Healing and Hurting

**Part 2**

_**Chapter 16**_

_Healing and Hurting_

* * *

My eyes snapped open abruptly, staring at grey sky peeking out from between the leaves. As I blinked my way into further consciousness, my entire body went into overdrive. Everything hurt, ached, and burned.

I hazed in and out as I tried to make sense of the torture, stuck between whether to moan from pain or the pleasure inside it.

Everything came back momentarily; the battle with the hydra, its toxic breath, slamming into the rock and breaking my leg. Pan.

I lurched upwards, coming to realize I was lying in my hammock.

All attempts to sit up were simply met with searing pain, horrible and all too welcome beyond thought. Never one to be stayed by trivialities, and enjoying the rush of adrenaline that accompanied it, I pressed through into an upright position.

I blinked, eyes adjusting to the scene. It was the most downtrodden I've ever seen them. Some of the boys put gels on their wounds, some were pressed up against trees and their bedrolls sobbing uncontrollably from the pain. The seven-year-old was a horribly raw mess, lying in a fetal position and shaking with horrid sobs.

I could sympathize. It took me a few moments to evaluate my wounds. Much of my skin was burned and red, bubbling up like violent pox. My leg was badly bound, a bit too tightly, and I could feel where the bone had protruded from my skin before it was snapped back to place, a raw hole in my body.

I fell back on my hammock, the pain was still strong in my body. I figured the best thing for my health was to sleep, but the strain was too strong to grant me enough respite to actually close my eyes.

No matter. If I slept I'd lose the pleasure.

So I evaluated what happened.

Pan had said we were going to war, and I'm not sure how seriously the others took it. We certainly all saw battle then, we saw bloodshed and it was so different from the games we played.

It was almost unfair, we didn't know what we were getting into. Almost.

After all, we had to protect Neverland - or whatever it really was that Pan was manipulating them to protect.

There was something about them, however, as they licked their wounds. Some sort of sobriety that was never present beforehand. Maybe they did understand the weight of battle, if only in the aftermath.

It only took a few moments for Pan to notice I was awake, and he promptly joined me, sitting in the hammock to my left.

There was gravity to his face I hadn't seen before. I wasn't sure what to make of it. His calmness wasn't reassuring, it was precedent for a storm.

He said nothing, but in a moment put his hand on my raw cheek.

If my spine wasn't so wonderfully bruised I probably would have jolted.

However, there was a strange warmth that spread through my body then, a sharp pain as though all my raw sores were covered in hot coals. I bit back a groan. Just as I did so, however, the pain stopped. I looked down and found my skin had pulled back over my wounds, as though nothing had happened. I shifted my leg and was shocked to find it relatively pain free.

"Thanks," I said softly, masking my disappointment.

He hummed lightly under his breath. "Can't have you training 'em when you're broken, can we?"

"Training?" I echoed. "Isn't it...soon?"

He chewed on the side of his mouth. "Afraid we have to speed things up a bit."

"What for?"

He made a show of skirting around the answer, and for once, I was annoyed.

"Peter. People died." I said, trying to convey a tone fitting of the situation. "What did they die _for_?"

He had an endgame, I knew he did. It was only a matter of knowing what it was. It would be worth it in the end, I just had to know for sure that the ends would justify the means.

If he didn't feel like telling me, I would still do my best, but after breaking so often for all those years, and after nearly dying at the hands of a hydra trying to destroy an hourglass, I almost felt as though I deserved the knowledge.

I didn't have final say in what I deserved, I knew, but Pan was never so cruel to block me from actualization.

"Sixteen dead. Some of them were less valuable than others - but there was a reason they were here." He was pensive, looking ahead at nothing in particular. "But that doesn't mean that my plans can stop. I'll go again, bring back a few replacements."

"Replacements?"

"I _do_ care about them." Pan paused noting my tone. "But not to the extent I think they're invaluable."

I watched him closely, the way his temple protruded by his hairline when he grit his teeth together.

"Doesn't look like I can keep it secret much longer." He sighed. "I'm running out of time, Felix," He said slowly. "And I'm afraid the shaking that bloody beast managed to do might've reduced me by years."

"I don't understand."

"You will," He said, a promise in his face. "Later. In the meantime, just stay close and use your head."

I wanted to object. I wanted to say, _No, tell me now. _

I didn't.

He left me then, sitting up with the hammock giving way under him. He stepped to the fire, standing tall on a log and cleared his breath to address our group.

Much like just before the battle.

Only the company was reduced by a little over half.

"Brothers," He said, voice dripping with agony that sounded genuine. Maybe it really was. "We faced brutality last night. Horrible losses and bloodshed. But it was a victory. A victory made hollow by the deaths of friends, of family."

The crowd was weak, wavering, staring at Pan. They ought to have been hanging on his every word, but there was unprecedented trepidation in the air, the eyes of the boys were cold, black slate. I suppose they'd never seen death before.

Pan didn't let this be a deterrent, however.

"But, you all helped save Neverland!"

The change in tone, the ethnocentrism spilling from his tongue made a few of the boys look up, a small spark ignited in their eyes.

Pan grew grave. "But it's not over yet. That hydra wouldn't have been born at all if all was well. They thrive on broken dreams. And in a place like Neverland, that's more lethal than its poison."

I swear even the birds stopped chirping.

"Magic is slipping away from the land." He paused for dramatic effect. "Neverland is dying."

My mind fuzzed over entirely. It seemed so impossible. I felt my palms break out in a cold sweat. No, no, Neverland couldn't die. It couldn't.

I didn't realize at the time I was buying into his rouse.

"But, I bid you to use the agony from this battle - let it fuel you to improve. Be better fighters. Keep you focused." He called out, gesturing grandiosely. "And above all, believe. And someday someone will be able to believe enough to save us all. So believe. Believe that I've got control."

Something snapped into place. I couldn't believe it, but it made such perfect sense I couldn't forget it.

Pan knew about the hydra, and in fact, I assume he'd allowed it to hatch.

I doubt he knew exactly how lethal the fight would be, how many boys would die. Although he had said to me once that the camp was getting overcrowded…

I expelled the thought. He wasn't that cruel. And if he was I was certainly in no position to presume anything about him.

But I couldn't be persuaded away from the idea that he hatched it. The look on his face when it fled for the skull-like island was a look of something going wrong, something deviating from plan. Something going wrong. Wrong enough for him to forget the precaution he'd instituted before battle.

Unless leaving me to scramble behind _was _his precaution.

I wasn't sure about the specifics, and to be completely honest I never received an answer.

But if Pan wasn't behind it, it meant that he wasn't in complete control.

And honestly, that was heavier cross to bear.

* * *

**End Part 2 **


End file.
